The Tale of Danagor
by Link The Hero of Light
Summary: In the wake of the Fellowship, another legend follows. Bringing the attention of the shadow to himself so that a quest may be kept secret.
1. The Adventure Begins

**All Rights go to Warner Bros, JRR Tolkien, Peter Jackson and Co. Image Rights go to 89ravenclaw on Deviantart.**

**AN: ****This story will mostly follow the epic quest line of Lord of The Rings Online. This is not a walkthrough, direct rehash, but an account of what happend during the time that the Fellowship began with the Ring being revealed, to the leaving of the last ship from the Gray Havens and maybe beyond. **

** The heroes we take for granted are the ones we don't know about. This hero will bleed, barely make it out alive, and in some cases fail. He wouldn't be called a hero if it was easy.**

**Now let's go out the door and step onto the road... **

I awoke on a cold stone floor. The last thing I remember before blacking out was being surrounded by brigands. Moonlight filtered through the bars of my prison. How I got into this predicament you ask? I guess I should start from the beginning.

My name is Danagor, I was raised near the shores of Evendim, with the reflections of the ruins of Annúminas on the lake's surface. My father was a ranger but he left soon after I was born. When the chieftain of the tribe sent a letter and my father's blade, my mother instantly declared that I wouldn't be a Ranger. Then again, destiny doesn't ask for permission.

Growing up among other kids who were to become rangers was hard. Being forbidden from touching a blade, they called me servantboy. One of the Rangers took pity on me and began teaching me the skills of tracking and healing. I paid attention to his lessons as best as I could, but the only thing I wanted to learn was how to wield a blade. His stories of elves, men and dwarves filled me with wander lust. Battles between good and evil frequently took place in his tales. The legends of ages past were the tales I grew up hearing.

My mentor's favorite words to begin a story were "He that has ears, let him hear." Often the tales had hidden meanings in them. Home, love and friendship was more important then wealth. Love can flourish between peoples who are taught at a young age to dislike each other. At times, I thought about the matter of what the Elves called The Undying West and the Halls of Mandos. One time, I asked my teacher why we were the divided at death? Surely, there was a place where the children of Eru lived together in peace after death? My teacher looked up at me. "Ah young one, Eru gave each of his children gifts. The gift of men is death and because of such a gift, our lives are richer for it. We live each day making our time count seeking to spread happiness to others."

I wanted to go out and see the sights of Arda with my own eyes. Rivendell, Lorien, the Argonath, Minas Tirith and the fields of Rohan. The old ranger brought me to these faraway places, on roads that went ever on and on. I imagined myself going to these faraway places, whenever I traveled the dusty road to the market. Too often, I got caught with my head in the clouds by my mother. I passed it off as thinking what would make the best deal at the rangers relics buyer that came around four times a year. Speaking of him, the only thing that held his attention and my own was my father's sword. I had only dared seeing it a few times hidden underneath the floorboards of my mother's bed.

My father's sword seemed to mock me, it's shine of nobility and pride set my blood boiling. The blade was nothing I had ever seen before. The blade glimmered, as if it had an inner light. The hilt was gold with runes written on the blade. The hand and a half grip was soft leather. The cross guard was knobbed at the ends, two pale jems set in them. I knew the sword was important somehow and though the desire to wield it was great, a sense told me it was not yet my time. It was almost an extension of my arm, light and quick. Even at a young age I could pick it up, looking like a fool with a sword that was bigger than me.

At the age of seven, I asked my teacher to teach me how to fight with a blade. Most of my other friends had to wait until they were twelve in order to learn how to learn how to sword fight. My teacher, whose name I sadly can't recall, had no son of his own and agreed. With no father, I had to do double chores around the house. I was already stronger than most kids my age. The months of summer had me fighting with a wooden sword and shield.

I will never forget the look on my teacher's face when I mastered the moves he shown me and knocked the sword out of his hands to prove my skill. He called my fighting skill unlike anything he had seen before. That year I also got into my first fight with a big eleven year old nearly a foot over my own height. I knocked him out with a right hook to the face. My mother did some yelling I shall never forget.

At age nine, when most boys were becoming familiar with swords, I began working on what kind of warrior I would be. I always wanted to protect others and lead men into battle so I became a warrior with the skills of a healer. Most had only picked one set of skills, but I wasn't most people.

At age ten, I became an armorsmith. Making heavy armor to withstand the blows of trolls and other evils. In a few years, I became an apprentice to the armorsmithing guild, making works that even satisfied the passing Dwarves. At age 14, my teacher died. I hid my skills from my mother, but she found out anyway. She just sat down with a sigh. "You have too much of your father in you, my son. You are even starting to look like him." There were no pictures of my father in the house, all that I had was mother's memory. "Your father was the greatest man I knew. His hair was blonde and his eyes were a shade of blue." The answer was always the same. Before my mother married she was said to be the most beautiful woman of the Dúnedain. I had my mother's dark hair mixed with my father's blonde. My eyes were like my father's, a bright blue. Stubble grew on my face, but I shaved before it became a beard.

My looks did attract a few girls my age, but romance didn't interest me. Well, there was a woman's voice that made my heart twitch a little every time I heard it. A soft cry for help coming from the darkness of my dreams. I never mentioned this to anybody, they would call me a daydreamer. My teenage years passed in a blur of activity. There was always _something _to do to restore the ruins or search for artifacts.

At my current age of nineteen, bandits raided my cart, searching for artifacts that they could sell. I had heard that they planned to use me as a sort of gladiator to fight for their enjoyment. That was how I got lying in a cell, far from home. A sharp clang followed by a thud of a body came from the hallway off to the left. A man clad in the garb of a Ranger, stepped into the light and unlocked the door. This man I recognized from the local stories. Strider, the chieftain of the Dúnedain, whose real name was only know to a select few.

The man immediately gave me a sword and shield. "Hurry friend! Those Blackwolds will soon be upon us!" I started for the exit only to find it blocked by a single bandit. I knocked his sword away and ran him through the chest. He didn't even have time to call for help. Exiting into the yard, I found two hobbits cowering before two bandits. I had seen hobbits in Oatbarteon before and they were always willing to help as long as they got well fed afterwards.

"Misery me!" the old hobbit yelled. His eyebrows were arched, looking like an old man caught in a permanent state of surprise. I ran up and bashed the bandit with my shield and slammed the other sword away with my sword. Turning, I sliced through his chest and stabbed the one behind me that was stunned from my blow. "Thank you, kind stranger." A young hobbit with blonde hair spoke up. She had a certain motherly quality to her that was combined with a sense of mischievousness. "Now I can cause a distraction for us to flee." the female hobbit grabbed a torch and flung it up towards the thatched roof of a nearby inn. It caught like kindling. The old hobbit had opened the door. "After you, friend!" Flames started to spread around us followed by the cries of "FIRE!" and "Get water!" The bandits were distracted alright. In chaos, the fight or flight instinct takes over. They would be too busy to notice that their prisoner's were escaping.

Before exiting the small hideout, I was blocked by a barred entry with a figure wearing a black robe just behind it. The figures horse was as dark as midnight. Another Ranger stood before the black rider. "Go back to the shadow, fallen king!" He swung his torch and the rider recoiled with a screech. The rider drew a blade and pierced the Ranger. "AHH!" The ranger fell screaming clutching his gut as if he had been burned.

The rider turned towards me and the hobbits. "Oh dear!" the female hobbit yelled. "These are not the hobbits I am looking for but this ranger will do for now." The figures tone sounded like a raspy breath and the night itself seemed to darken as the rider approached the fallen Ranger. The flames from the spreading fire came over the thatched roof. The rider recoiled "Accursed flames!" The horse reared in fright.

Strider appeared beside his fallen ranger. "Go back! You shall not harm these folk!" Strider flung his torch and the figures robes caught fire. The horse bolted out of the gate the rider making high pitched screams that set my teeth on edge. I leaned next to the wounded rangers side. The wound was deeper than it should have been and the rangers breath was feeble gasps. "The Nazgul fear... the wielders of...fire." The man passed out. _"The Nine are abroad once more.' _In the tales from my mentor, the Nazgul were the most feared servants of Sauron and were last seen when he was at his prime.

Strider broke into my foreboding thoughts. "I am too late. Amdir has been stabbed by a morgul blade." He threw the ranger over a horse. "The town of Archet is closest. We must ride." The hobbits took up one horse and I saddled another. Strider was in front, with another horse trailing behind bearing Amdir.

The sun was just beginning to rise as a town came into view. A nearby signpost read: Archet. A collection of buildings came into view, sheltered by high cliffs and a river flowed lazily by. An elderly man with silver hair and a captain's uniform stopped us just before we entered. HIs armor was leather and mail identifying him as a guard of the town. "Strider, I thought this was your doing." The man said gruffly, obviously not trusted Strider one bit. "Captain Brackenbrook, my companions need rest after tonight and one of us is wounded." Amdir groaned, his face was pale. Even it was a warm night in summer, he shivered uncontrollably. Brackenbrook stepped aside. "Just try not to cause trouble in my town."

An inn stood just behind were a group of soldiers were drilling. The sign above the street read: The Mad Badger. Strider helped Amdir down and leaned him beside the inn's railing. My eyes felt heavy, the battle high wearing off. Strider steadied me after nearly falling off my horse. "Easy there, friend." Strider pressed a satchel full of gold coins into my hand. "Go get some sleep, I'll worry about Amdir." At the suggestion of sleep my willpower crumbled. A nice warm bed was better than just cold stone or dirt.

The inn was empty, not even the owner was up yet. I put a gold coin on the table and took a key to a room. The stairs creaked a little as I went up, but nobody was awake yet. All the doors were open, a sign that no other travelers were here. Passing through the nearest door and closing it, the room was small with only one window. A bed lay in one corner of the space and I gladly undressed down to my undershirt and pants. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep.

A woman's voice cried out for help as my eyelids closed. This was the third time I heard her. The first at fourteen and again at seventeen. I kept these dreams to myself. This time I could speak. "Where are you?" No light was anywhere, it was as if light had simply been snuffed out." Someone, please help. Anyone, please answer." It was woman's voice and she was crying softly now. "Where are you." I said it a little louder this time. The voice went quiet and spoke softly. "Far to the north." Real informative.

I awoke before I could ask her where. Someone knocked on my door. I got dressed and opened it. No one was outside. "Down here." said a voice. I looked down and saw the female hobbit from before. "Celandine Brandybuck." She introduced herself. The hobbit had a motherly quality to her, witch would explain why she had woken me up. "Danagor." I greeted.

"Thank goodness you're awake. Amdir still hasn't recovered from his wound." Celandine informed me. "Strider looks after him and he sent me to wake you." She took me by the hand and more or less dragged me outside. I barely had time to strap my sword sheath to my waist and place my shield on my back. The sun was shinning at it's noon peak, a cloudless day in Breeland. Amdir hadn't moved from where Strider had put him, but a blanket lay underneath him and his face was paler than what it was during the night or maybe it hadn't changed at all.

Amdir waved me over. "Don't worry about me. My wound isn't as bad as it was." Amdir shivered even though it was a warm day. "I hope your rest was peaceful. You earned it by fighting those Blackwolds off." Amdir shivered again, a bit more violently. "My sleep wasn't so peaceful, I'm afraid." Amdir coughed but it sounded more like a rasp. Strider came from the woods, fresh Kingsfoil in his hand. Amdir spoke again this time under his breath. "I fear for Strider, he puts my wound before Archet's safety and his own mission." His breath became labored and he didn't say another word.

"Danagor." I introduced myself to Strider as he came up. Strider greeted me. His attention turned to Amdir. "Strider, Amdir wished that you look for Archet's saftey instead of his." I felt uncomfortable, relaying Amdir's words. Strider spoke after applying the Kingsfoil. "Amdir is right. I don't wish to leave him, but Archet must be defended and I should be seeking a Baggins right now." He turned to me a light of an idea in his eyes. "Perhaps you can help, Danagor. The people of Archet are in danger because of the Blackwold's plans. Captain Brackenbrook distrusts me, but perhaps you can make him see the danger."

Captain Brackenbrook stood a little further off, clearly making sure we weren't causing trouble. I went over to him and he spoke gruffly, clearly mistrusting the rangers. "You came in last night with those Rangers." The man clearly didn't have a high opinion of any of the Rangers or their allies. "Please listen, Archet is in danger from the Blackwolds." The captain scoffed. "That's what the other Ranger said last night too and we have no proof of those bandits becoming violent. Sure they stir up trouble, but they haven't raided peaceful towns as long as I can remember." Then he added, "If some of the people here are convinced that they are in danger, I'll consider your warning."

Walking around town, it seemed that this place was peaceful instead of the chaos and darkness he had seen earlier. Brackenbrook had been blinded and would wake to a nightmare. Hopefully, it could be prevented. I spotted a constable, they stabled horses and heard many things first before anyone else. He was grayed and his armor was a leather tunic with a shield on the chest. "Constable, do believe that the Blackwolds are a threat?" The man turned. "You think they mean to attack us? Don't be absurd! They fight among themselves as they have no leader and a raid is unthinkable." He went back to his work.

Strider would want to hear about this. He was still tending Amdir who was still breathing hard. "Strider, the people here don't think is an attack is coming." The man kept his hood up, even though it was sunny and warm. "The people here will not believe the signs of danger as they have known peace since they were born. It appears Archet will need your help sooner than planned." Strider stood up from Amdir, a bandage now covering his side. He turned towards me. "I want to see more of your skills, Danagor. Your journey has just begun." We walked towards the practice area and prepared to spar. I noticed that Strider's gait was constantly a fighter's one. He had obviously been fighting for years. His stance was prefect.

"First to disarm wins." Strider came at me in a whirlwind. I met him blow for blow, getting a feel for his fighting style. Then I realized that _he had no style._ It was completely random in his swings changing it halfway through. This was probably the most dangerous opponent I had faced. Strider kicked my legs out from under me and I fell onto my back. "A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage." Strider told me as I stood up. "Again!" Strider came at me while I was halfway standing.

I rolled behind him and it was like he had eyes in the back of his head. He blocked my next swing that would have resulted in a light touch against his neck with ease. He spun around and I swung my sword against his. The force rattled my wrist. Strider frowned and I got the sense that he would _not _like losing to someone he had only met hours ago. I lashed out with my fist, catching him squarely in the ribs. He went down winded and wheezing. I didn't punch him _that _hard even.

Strider actually smiled. Well it was more like a half one. "A few hours on the battlefield and you might be a force to be reckoned with, Danagor. Offer your service to Brackenbrook and we might be able to avert disaster." Strider went back to tending Amdir. Brackenbrook had followed us, making sure we weren't bandits ourselves or something.

"Well, the rumor seeker returns." The captain said dismissedly. "Maybe I could help you somehow, in exchange for your aid." Captain Brackenbrook pointed down the road, towards a farm. "Calder Cob is my best guard and has been having problems with wolves as of late. Ask him what you can do to help." I walked outside the gates of Archet to the farm. A few wild hogs were in the grassy area of the hills, the stone ruins of the Kingdom of the North farther ahead.

Calder Cob was the man standing in the middle of the gate to the farm, a proud look was on his face. He looked like a bully that had just escaped punishment for hurting another kid. The red haired man smirked as I drew near. He was armed with an axe and a guard's uniform was fitted to his size. On his left a man's leg was bandaged and another guard was applying a splint. "Well, lookit here. If it isn't the man who cried Brigands. I've heard all about you Danagor." He spoke with a drawl, that conveyed smugness. _"__How does he know my name?" _"I thought you would be coming sooner or later to help me with a little wolf problem."

The man pointed with his axe. "Near Brown's Folly a pack of wolves has turned up, one of them has already wounded one of the guards." A weak groan came from his right. The wounded guard sat with his back to the wall, his leg securely bandaged to stop the bleeding. "Well, get going!" The man pushed me towards the ruins. "I just hope those wolves aren't breeding while you are there!" Calder Cob jeered. That got me walking towards the ruins. Wolves were _very _territorial when they were having pups.

As the ruins came into view, I noticed a banner had been placed on top of the ruins. Something was wrong here. A wolf pounced out of the bushes and I hit it solidly on the head with my shield. My sword went into it's chest as it staggered and fell over dead. A brand was on this wolf, a hunting hound of some kind. Bile began to rise in my throat as the events from last night and my kill sank in. I had just killed and hadn't thought about it until the wolf's death was in front of me. I took a few deep breaths. What is done is done.

I looked at the brand. It resembled a black crown with three spikes coming from the top. A scruffy man wearing leather armor approached and grinned. His teeth were yellow. "I thought you would be paying me a visit. Calder Cob sends his regret that you will die here." The man swung his sword and I parried. Another wolf joined his side and it pounced. I slammed my shield into it, making the wolf dazed. My enemy punched me in the gut, making me lean forward. I brought my shield around and the blow that would've cut my face in half clattered against it. I shoved forward with the shield and sank my sword into his gut as he leaned back.

His wolf howled and ran towards me. He landed on top of my shield, biting and snapping. Drool flew as he tried to bite me. I had hunted wolves and this had happened before. I rolled out slashing with my sword where the wolf was. Blood flowed as a long scar decorated the wolf's side. The wolf toppled from pain and I put it out of it's misery.

I had been led into a trap. The sign of the crown on the wolves hide was a symbol I recognized from the teachings of my childhood mentor. It was The Iron Crown, a symbol of Angmar. Something a lot worse was going on then a raid by brigands.

* * *

"**All tales begin with a call."**

**The Legend of Zelda quote,**** "A**** sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage" goes to Nintendo.**

** Reviews keep the adventure going!**


	2. Storm Over Archet

_**All Disclaimers apply.**_

Archet was in danger. Calder Cob had set me up. I ran back to the farm to confront him. He was surprised to see me. "How...how did a weakling like you defeat the Wolf Master?" He recovered from his shock quickly. He began to whisper. "It doesn't matter... the old fool Brackenbrook believes that I have been loyal to Archet since I was a lad. This town will fall and I will have more gold than you can imagine." The spark in his eyes was that of greed. "You better make yourself scarce Danagor, or you will be dead along with the rest of them tonight."

The guard behind him narrowed his eyes and stood up from his comrade whose leg was now bandaged fully. Strider would have to know about this treachery. I ran as fast as I could back to Archet. Strider was still tending Amdir. Breathless I caught my breath before speaking. "Brackenbrook sent me to Calder Cob, who was having a wolf problem but he is the wolf that preys on Archet." Strider stood up. "It appears danger has found you more quickly than I had thought. How did that Blackwold know your name and your task if he never left his post?" I kept the information that the Iron Crown of Angmar had been branded on the wolves to myself. Strider had enough on his mind.

Strider was now preparing a salve. "Brackenbrook will not believe your story without evidence or the word of another Blackwold. While you were gone, I listened to some of the local talk at the market and heard there is a Blackwold brigand in the stocks, across the lane from here. He is being held for highway robbery. You should question him about Calder Cob." Looking over my shoulder, I saw a wall made of metal bars and a door held firmly into place in an ally between the guard house and a shop. It was set so far in that those looking straight down the lane couldn't see it.

Sure enough, a man was being held in the stocks. As I approached I could hear his shouts. "Let me go! I'm a friend of Calder Cob's, and I'm innocent! This idiot jailor won't listen." The jailor was standing off to one side frowning. "Caldor Cob is a traitor to Archet, you won't be getting out of there." The brigand turned to me and grinned. "You think you know the plan? It's too late! My friends from the south will soon be here and war will come to the North. After that you might find yourself in chains." He boasted loudly.

The jailor walked up to me. "I believe you. This man has been boasting about his release to me for hours and everyone has heard about your questioning of the Constable if Archet was in danger. If Brackenbrook doesn't believe you Danagor, you can tell him Ned Pruner does." Twice in one day someone knows my name without meeting them. Actions did speak louder than words. I replied with my suspicions of something darker. "I only hope that the warning is in time."

Ned unlocked the stocks and dragged the struggling Blackwold to the jail. I could hear the scuffles and the clang of cell door as it was shut. I walked over to Brackenbrook he was manning the gates, keeping an eye on the road south. "Brackenbrook, Caldor Cob is a traitor to Archet and has attempted to kill me." The captain whirled around disbelief on his face. "That is a serious charge, Danagor. Calder Cob has been loyal to this town since he was a boy." This man was used to peace and the occasional scuffle, but a traitor was unknown to him. "Ned Pruner believes the threat and a captured brigand has been boasting that his friends are preparing in the south."

"If what you say is true, Cal Sprigley would know of the threat in the south. As his farm is close to the gate leading to Combe." Brackenbrook had begun to pale slightly, but he held himself together. "If the threat is real, then we are in trouble." I began jogging down the path, rounding Calder Cob's farm and into the woods. The path seemed to wind it's way on the borders of the Chetwood. The path forked and I took the path that went away from the main path that led to a gate by the wagon tracks and horse hoofs.

The farm was surrounded by high stone walls and was more suited for a woodmen's trade then farming. A man clad in leather and a black beard stood outside the gate, watching the road that led to his farm. "Are you Cal Sprigley?" The man shook my hand. "You found him, but I don't know your name stranger." "Danagor." I greeted and got right to the point. "Brackenbrook sent me to see if brigands were giving you trouble." Cal's face darkened. "Then you came just in time, I haven't heard back from the cart I sent to the market in Combe. Robbers have assaulted this farm but me and my farmhands have been holding them back." Cal looked up at me. "Maybe you could see what happened to the cart I sent to Combe and report to Brackenbrook of what has been happing here and at the gate."

He handed me a bow, made from the oak of the Chetwoods. I strung it and found that it would take care of unarmored foes. I placed the bow over my back and the quiver sliding neatly into place behind my shield. I was now armed and dangerous. I began walking back to the Combe gate, using the trees for cover. As the trees thinned, I crawled on all fours to get closer to the road. On a small hill behind a bush, I saw the gate leading into Combe and knew what had happened to the cart from the farm. It had turned completely over and Blackwolds had made a barricade, blocking the gate using the cart and logs from the trees that they had cut down. Some stakes were placed in front of the barricade to stop a charge.

I began to retreat back to the shadows and went straight back to Cal. As I told him what I saw, he clutched the side of a wall for support. His knees weak from the shock. "The cart overturned...the road blocked? This is a nightmare." He hastily began writing a letter. "Give this to Brackenbrook with all haste, he will believe you now." Archet felt a long way away. I would have to get a horse if this kept up.

I gave the letter to Brackenbrook and began to catch my breath. He looked up from the letter his face blank. "What have I done? I am a fool. I trusted Calder Cob and even my own son warned me about his treachery." He sighed. "Jon is a worthy hunter and he hasn't set foot in this town for three years because of the argument...What a fool I am! I told him he was not welcome in Archet until he stopped behaving like a jealous child. Now he and his hunters are our only hope. But what can I do? He does not deserve to be dragged deeper into this. No, Archet must stand without help."

Strider had seen many evils, maybe he had some advice. He was saddling a horse, preparing for a long journey. "Strider, Brackenbrook believes that Archet is in danger, but he refuses aid from his son." Strider leapt atop his horse. "Danagor, you have done remarkably well, better than I could have done. You earned Captain Brackenbrook's trust. Appeal to his son Jon against his wishes. I must leave soon and Archet will need all the help it can get, even if pride is at stake. I am confident you will be able to give this town a fighting chance. In the meantime, Amdir assures me he just needs rest."

Another horse had been prepared. "I have a feeling you'll be needing a horse to get around from now on, Danagor. I trust Archet's fate to you. You have given me a little peace of mind." He began galloping off down the road. If anyone could make it past that barricade he could. I climbed on top of my horse and walked it the gate. A signpost read Archet Hunting Lodge and pointed east. I stirred my horse to gallop, going around the tall hills. The hunting lodge was a walkable distance only about a mile or so.

A dwarf was sharpening an axe. A few men were shooting arrows into wooden targets. All was dressed in light mail and leather. I tied my horse to the post and made sure it had food and water. Inside the lodge, a small fire was burning in a corner and skins covered the floor. In the back room, a man that looked like a younger version of Brackenbrook was studying a map. "Are you Jon Brackenbrook?" He looked up. "Yes, you came from town didn't you? It was about time someone noticed the preying darkness." "Will you help? Caldor Cob has shown his true colors and you father no longer trusts him." Jon sighed and sat down. "I bear my father no ill, he is just too trusting of people. Yes, I and my hunters will come to Archet's aid. I would rather die than let good people come to harm."

He noticed something on my chest. "You are hurt." Looking down, a few claw marks had scratched my skin, barely drawing blood. "It's just a scratch." I dismissed it. "That's what they usually say before infection sinks in." Jon opened a cabinet and I saw that it was full of bandages, herbs and vials of potions. I could tell there was no fighting it so I took off my weapons and shredded shirt. Jon threw it away into a wash basket. "I don't know if you're brave or a fool. To fight without armor..." He gave me a vial of alcohol and I rubbed it onto my wounds. The pain made me hiss. After the vial was drained and my wounds were bandaged to let the wound close, Jon spoke. "I would send you to gather information about the Blackwold's plan's, but I think you need rest before the battle starts." I stood up. "I'm fine."

"Without armor?" Jon shook his head. "Are you Tulkas, the champion of the Valar?" I shook my head. "Then you will need some chainmail and padding to survive. I will wake you when your armor is ready." I was tired from all the fighting and running. I found a cot and as soon as my head lay down, I was asleep. How to describe what happened in my dream this time is not easy. Instead of blackness, I stood in a garden.

Water trickled down the rocks making a small waterfall from above my head. A small river flowed through bubbling cheerfully on the rocks. Flowers of every sort grew in reds, pinks, whites, golds, purples and other various shades. Stairs sparkled overhead lit by glimmering lights. What was built seemed to flow with nature and nature seemed to sprout them. I was barefooted, green grass tickled my feet.

The air was clear and the scent of the fresh air and flowers combined in a refreshing dance. I was dreaming in all the senses. An elf stood next to a pedestal that came up my waist. Flowers wound their way on the vines leading up to the top, carven precisely in stone. Trying to describe the elf maid would not do her justice, she was far more then what words could convey. Her dress was a glowing white, reflecting the moon. The dress came down to her ankles, inlaid with silver, sewn in the pattern of flowering vines. The circlet was slim shining silver, the vines tangling to form a crown. Budding flowers midway through opening rested on the crown of her golden silver hair that trailed behind her in ringlets. Her eyes were a bright shade of blue and yet...a sense of divine power rested within her. The Lady of the Golden Wood, Galadriel.

"Danagor." Her words were soft on the wind, floating to my ears. "Listen to my words, for I have seen much that troubles me." She beckoned me to come foreword. A sliver basin was set into the pillar, the water black as night. Galadriel waved her hand over the water's surface and it glimmered slightly before turning back to the way it was. She frowned slightly at the mirrors surface. "The darkness has been clouding the mirror's vision as of late." She took a small vial, it's contents flashed brightly over the mirror and I had to shield my eyes from the light. The water was now clear and sparkling from the light's purge.

"What will I see if I look into it?" Galadriel turned towards me from the basin. "Even the wise can not tell, for what is shown may yet come to pass or none of it." I peered into the waters. The water rippled and showed a fortress, built from a black mountain. Two levels complete with a guarded gate leading into the fortress was the limit of the vision. Made of black and gray stones, the walls were heavily fortified with towers, each level of the towers was topped by five curved spikes that bent upward towards the sky. The Banner of The Iron Crown hung from the ramparts.

"I have seen lighted windows in the evil city of Carn Dum. The land of Angmar stirs." Galadriel's voice was in my head. The vision went forward to parapet above the main gate. A man clad in red robes with black armor stood on the parapet. His armor was spiked in the shoulders and above the gauntlets. An iron crown sat on his hood, two spikes coming from the crown to almost meet in the middle of his forehead. Smaller thorns came straight up from the brim of the crown. Two thorns almost made a tip on the crown. His chestplate had the symbol of an eye above a valley. "Shadows once came forth from this land to threaten the North." The armored man made a motion to attack, a high pitched squeal coming from underneath the shadows of his hood. "I fear that they will again."

The vision changed and I saw a group of four hobbits, two men, an elf and a dwarf prepared for battle in a hall made of stone. Glowing crystals lit braziers and the vision moved out to show more of the stone pillars and walls. A small arch on their side led to a bride tapering to a two men walk in the middle. On the bridge stood an old man in gray robes and pointed hat, clutching a staff and sword. A creature, the likes I had never seen was being held back by some force of will. The beast was made of shadow and flame. Two wings sprouted from it's back and horns curled downwards from the side of it's head, teeth like razors showed as the beast opened it's mouth and roared. Flame filled his mouth. The old man's staff began to glow and with a thundering crash, the vision turned to a corrupted woods. The trees were bare, except for cobwebs like torn banners hanging from their branches. Vines went this way and that. The forest was decaying in an unnatural way, it's life going to the mists. A large hill with the shape of a fortress built on top of it was surrounded by thick gray mists.

"My mirror also shows much that I do not understand at times." Her voice filled my head and I saw an elf hidden in shadows. The vision changed to a massive hall, pillars held up the roof. They were craved with gold inlay and painted with dark shades of red, brown and black. Bright colored tapestries hung on the walls depicting the history of Rohan. Helm Hammerhand defeating Freca, Aldor chasing the Dunlendings, and Eorl the Young riding across a ford. The colors were slightly fading. The floor had strange runes written in the stones. Facing the doors was a gilded throne, horses rearing from it. The oldest man I had ever seen sat on the throne. His skin was wrinkled and pale, his beard and hair tangled. A pale faced man stood to his right, he looked sickly or unwell. I had seen creatures like this on my hunts, snakes specifically. A young blonde woman in a white dress stood before the throne, she seemed to be arguing with the sickly man and the man on the throne. "All of Middle Earth is threatened by the return of Sauron. We will need strength, courage and wisdom if we are to oppose him."

I was back in the garden. "You are near to waking, Danagor." "Why are you showing this to me?' I asked. "For one reason, you have appeared in my mirror not once or twice but often." Galadriel's voice became harder to hear. "No matter if you desire it or not, your fate is tied to Middle Earth. The Free Peoples of Middle Earth are depending on you."

I awoke to Jon shaking me awake. "Get up. The scout I sent has returned and your chainmail and padding has arrived from Archet." I got up from the cot, The dream was the strangest I had yet. Chainmail leggings and shirt, lay on top of padding. A new undershirt and trousers had been folded neatly. The chainmail went over the padding, the padding over the undershirt. I had learned the hard way never to let wet leather be on your skin. It sticks and you have to peel it off your skin if it gets wet. Study boots protected my feet and a helmet went on last. Strapping on my weapons and shield, it was heavier than it was but not unbearable. To run in this would take the breath out of me real quick.

Jon was studying the plans. "Danagor, it seems that the armor fits well on you." He motioned towards the plans. "It seems the Blackwolds mean to attack through the main gate, while a smaller force uses the Old East Path. We all avoid that area as it seems spiders have taken that area. Speak to Atli Spiderbane, a dwarf from the east of the Misty Mountains. See what you can learn from him about the path."

Atli was the only dwarf here and he was now wrapping a bandage around his leg. I hadn't noticed that he was wounded. "Are you Atli?" He looked up from his bandage and I was surprised at how short he was. He barely came up to my waist. His axe spoke volumes though as it was re-sharpened and double bladed. "At your service, friend." His voice was as deep as a cave. "Danagor." We shook hands. "What do you know of the Old East Path?" Atli motioned towards his leg. "Other than spiders, the way has been blocked. While coming back, I got this wound from a spider bite."

The bandage wrapped around his leg and a putrid smell came from it. "I cleared most of them out so we can use the short way into Archet." He went back to tending his leg. I went back to Jon with the news that the path was blocked at the east entrance to town. "That is good news, the spiders will have retreated for now. We can use the path tonight and the spiders will hinder the brigand attack from the east for awhile." Looking outside the sun was beginning to set.

"I will gather the men and we will march to Archet's aid." We went outside. The hunters were waiting outside, a small band but better than nothing. "Men of Archet, your home is under attack, tonight we fight off the Blackwolds and return to our homes in triumph after so long away!" Nice and short speech. I would have to take notes on how to inspire people like that.

Smoke came from the direction of town. "Archet is ablaze! Hurry!" We began to walk faster than a march. As went past a stone gateway built into a small valley, webs came into view. The smell of smoke drifted towards us. As we approached the gates, I saw that they had been forced apart slightly by some force. Arrows struck a few hunters and they went down. The Blackwolds had arrived before we did. I kept running through the arrows, weaving erratically.

The prison was overrun. Six or seven bandits surrounded Ned Pruner. "This is for jailing us, Pruner!" I recognized the speaker. He was the man that Ned had thrown in jail after his bragging of Archet's destruction. The brigand kicked him down onto the ground. The other's hooted with glee. "Hold on Ned!" A woman with black hair and a guards outfit, struggled with the gate keys. Apparently, the prisoners had revolted when the Blackwolds attacked. We had assumed the Brigands would use the old path, but why use it if you had allies on the other side of a wall? The brigand began kicking and punching Ned while he lay on the ground, his sword next to him.

His hands were broken by the way they dangled. A few of the Brigands were using clubs, along with daggers and swords. Atli began whacking away at the wood palisade with his axe. The flames didn't seem to bother him as much. Probably because Dwarves were used to the heat of a forge. "Mercy!" Ned yelled loudly. The cackling flames and fireglow made the brigands look like Morgoth. The one that had been locked in the stocks grew bored of beating the jailor. "Atli swing harder!" I yelled. "I'm swinging as fast as I can!" Atli was sweating under the strain. The hunters that had axes began chopping away at the barricade. With the sound of splintering wood, the brigand that was beating Ned picked up the jailors sword. He stabbed it into the jailor's gut, causing him a slow and painful death.

I leapt into the fray, becoming completely surrounded by brigands. The woman screamed "NO!" a shout I barely heard. I preferred being up close and in the midst of my enemies when fighting. That way, I didn't have to worry who got in the way of my blade. There was a certain freedom in that moment being surrounded with no hope of escape. I kept my blade moving, if a brigand parried he went down on the riposte. Brigands began falling around me, clutching wounds that wouldn't close. I learned my sword was dwarf make by the way it sliced through leather like the air. The sharpness of my blade made the wind whistle, leather ripping apart. The battle song of the northern rangers was in me.

It's startling how fast a fight can begin and end. One moment your fighting for your life, the next is peace. The hunters came in behind me, a few threw up. Jon's face was pale. The gate finally opened and the black haired guard woman raced in, clutching Ned. _"His wife." _I guessed. Ned gasped, his blood bubbling on his chest. "Amdir... Amdir's close by. He escaped the slaughter at the Badger. You have to help him... defend the Badger. Those Blackwolds want the hobbits...and the Captain. I...I saw something in the flames...go after them, you must save them..." Ned slumped down slightly, his last words to his wife were a whisper for her. "Ned!" His wife began crying. The hunters and me stood there shocked at death, having never seen it coupled with loss. I refused to think about the brigands I had killed.

"To think is to halt, to halt is to die." That was well known battle saying of the Dúnedain. The six or seven bandits now lay around us. Jon turned towards me. "I have never seen a man fight like that, Danagor." The fires continued to spread, the smoke drifting away from the rooftops, coloring the sky black and gray.

We went deeper into the town. Flames had consumed most of the buildings, burning roadblocks littered the street. The street had been blocked off by a pile of burning carts. A few brigands fought against us but they were easily cut down. Parry, slash, riposte. Three swift contacts with my sword and a foe went down, never to rise up again. The Mad Badger was untouched for now. A volley of arrows from the hunters, brought the brigands down in the market.

"Son, what are you doing here!?" I could hear the captain's shout from the Mad Badger, directly past the barricade. "Talk later!" Jon yelled back. We began fighting a way around the obstacle, going to the street to the left of the market and turning right. Smoke tingled my nostrils, the smell making my eyes water. Sweat began to run down our skin. Atli was in the front, swinging his axe left and right. It was a grim fight. We left behind a trail of the dead and dying. It as hard to tell if we where the defenders or the attackers.

The crafter's area went up like kindling. The sudden _whoosh _of flame devouring the dry wood. The flames reached into the sky and a few of the Hunter's standing next to it caught on fire. It was my first taste of war. A bitter taste, that I would remember for the rest of my life, witch may not be that long. The hunter's that had caught on fire began rolling, but I could smell roasting flesh. With all the sights and smells around us, it was as if the town had fallen into Utumno.

"Forward, Danagor! The worst is yet to come I fear!" Jon snapped me back into the battle. As we rounded the last bend, we saw Brackkenbrook surrounded by flames, his face grim. "Father, I knew you would be alive!" Jon raced to his father's side. Their was no relief from the Captain yet. "Yes, I am alive son." He waved his hand at the burning buildings around him. "Does Archet fall now? I have been a fool." I heard the sounds of battle cries down the road. "Now is not the time for blame." I pointed down the main road, at least twelve brigands were rushing at us swords and clubs in the air. Jon and his father went to my side, small shields and swords at the ready. "Defend the hobbits and Amdir!" The hobbits were cowering in one corner, fear frozen.

Four hunters rounded the bend and loosed arrows into the mob of raiders. A few went down, but there was at least eight were left to our three. The four hunter's joined us as the crash of battle met our ears. Screams of battle surrounded us, as we fought. Slashing, hacking, parrying, bashing with our shields or hitting with fists. It was more a brawl than a battle. The brigands had obviously hoped to overwhelm us with their numbers, a few were drunk from the look of it. The road became wet from blood. "Enough games!" a harsh voice yelled. We all became frozen, as some force halted our movements. There where no more brigands in sight, so it appeared as if the speaker had just appeared. The enemies that were here were dead at our feet.

Two Nazgul walked from the shadows of the smoke. Instead of black, they wore red robes. These were the Cargul, lesser wraiths, victims of morgul blades. "The ranger comes with us." They were shadows, so both or one could have spoken. Caldor Cob walked between the Cargul. The Captain became red faced from rage. "Caldor Cob! You cannot see what you have become!" Caldor smirked. "I have become stronger than you can even dream of, Captian. You have always been blind, but now you will understand." I tried to move, but then again, maybe it wouldn't be the best idea to be noticed. "You betrayed your home and your peoples. You should be ashamed." The captain strained against his invisible bonds.

"Enough, Amdir is now a servent of the Eye." Amdir got up from his sick bed and I noticed that his eyes had gone red. They were like red orbs in his face. "Yes, masters." His tone was completely flat and unfeeling. "Caldor Cob finish what you came to do." The Cargul and Amdir vanished into the night. Caldor's eyes glimmered as the bonds binding us began to slacken. "Now I have the power in Archet, Brackenbrook." Caldor lifted his hatchet and brought it down on the captain's chest leaving a deep cut. His face went pale and the guard of Archet fell. "Father! NO!" Jon and I sprung for Caldor Cob at the same time. He blocked Jon's first blow, but I cut his hand off at the wrist. Caldor Cob screamed and cradled his maimed hand. I let Jon deliver the final blow, his sword going directly into and through Cob's chest.

The man collapsed on the ground. "See where your power has got you, Caldor. I ask was it worth it?" I said to his body. It was customary to say a few words to the men that joined the dead. Jon looked up, his eyes hollow. A circle of people had surrounded us while Archet burned. A few were taking buckets of water to the burning buildings. Jon began to speak, his voice strained. "This is a sad day, Archet burns, my father is dead, and Amdir has been taken by evil men. All we can do now is put out this fire and rebuild." The circle of people broke up, helping to put out the fire. As the smoke cleared slightly and the flames had died, the stars had come out. The orange glow of the town lit the streets. Jon was now leader of Archet, he walked around with dead eyes, still doing his job, but without purpose.

The townspeople began to rebuild slowly. Ashes were swept, the dead laid to rest in coffins. I kept my distance, feeling like a stranger in the midst of their grief. I went back to my room in The Mad Badger. Undressing, I found I had a few cuts but nothing serious. A few bandages from a healer that came around took care of my cuts. I laid down, feeling restless but fell asleep anyway. I had changed in so short a time that nightmares from the Blackwold raid visited me. Even then, I realized that the journey home wouldn't be for a long time.

* * *

**"Heroes rise from a baptism of fire."**

**Reviews keep the adventure going!**


	3. Amdir's Fate

**_All standard disclaimers apply._**

I awoke to the sound of hammering, the people of Archet were busy rebuilding the town. The Mad Badger was packed with people, most of the people here had lost everything and were living in the Badger until they got back on their feet. All the rooms were taken and filled. The bar was noisy and crowded. I ordered myself some bread, beer and fish. The beer had a woody aftertaste, probably from the barrel it was stored in. The bread was crunchy, yet not hard. That told me that I was somewhere in the northeastern bree lands. This area was just north of the wheat fields of Bree. The Chetwood forest to the east, formed a barrier with the Lone Lands. I had come a long way from home, witch was north of the Shire and located at the ruins of Tinnudir. That would make most people think I was raised in a tent, or in the ruins themselves, but I was raised in a log house.

The Dunedain established a camp there and over time, the camp grew to a small town huddled around the ruined keep. It was mostly intact and guarded by the other rangers. The sounds of the lake waters were my earliest memories. Summer was bright and warm, the waters sparkling like glass. Lake Nenuial was fed by the melting snows of Forochel. The lake waters were always pleasantly warm for me. Something special seemed to be looking out for me as I swam. The reason I say that is because one time, something pulled me under. Maybe it was a current or the tide.

Anyway, the moment I tried to swim for the surface, my legs got tangled in seaweed. I had been born next to this lake and I would die in it. The irony was sickening. As my lungs demand for air grew, water flooded it's way into my lungs. My vision began to darken and I felt as sense of nothingness, just a drifting peace. What I saw began to darken and I began to face the doom of men. That was when, someone pulled me from the waters. I awoke in a cave, yet it was damp and warm. Some kind of green moss grew on the cave walls, it was kind of cozy.

Small lights flitted before me, dancing on the wind. A waterfall echoed around the cave. Then I realized I was underneath some blankets made of plant material instead of furs. My sopping swimming clothes laid next to blazing fire that consumed no wood, drying slowly. I was naked and venerability took me over. I began to shake in fear. Shame made me get up with my blankets, when a voice said. "Lie back down, you are in no shape to move." It was then that I saw her, a river maiden. A spirit of the waters.

She was completely blue, dressed in a flowing elf dress with scales covering her waist and upper thighs. "My name is Gwindeth." Her eyes were blue with black pupils in them giving the impression that I was looking into the depths of the lake. She waved her hand and water gushed out of my mouth like a fountain. She had a regality around her that came from nobility. I wouldn't be surprised if she knew some of the Kings of Gondor. She gave me something to drink and my sick feeling washed away.

"It's an honor to meet you, Gwindeth." I bowed my head giving her thanks. A smile formed on her lips. "It's been a long time since any of the race of men came into my home, Danagor." She knew my name without me introducing myself. I felt a little nervous. During storms, I had seen the waters of Lake Nenuial whip up into a frenzy of mighty waves, crashing upon the shore with almost a desire to consume the small town.

"Should I visit sometime then?" I asked. My clothes had dried. Gwindeth waved one blue hand and the fire went out, fading into the air. "I am used to being alone, Danagor. The life that swims in the waters of the lake gives me all the companionship I need. Other water spirits sometimes visit, so I am never really alone." Her wisdom was the kind that could advise kings. She turned aside, as I put on my clothes. "Did you save me?" I asked as her back was turned. "I usually don't interfere with the lives of mortals, yet you are young and have a role to play of your own in the future."

"Thank you, Gwindeth." She turned around and I noticed that she was blushing slightly. Her cheeks had gone a bit darker shade of blue. "Before you leave, please tell no one of my home." I nodded and bade her farewell. Instead of walking out, Gwindeth touched my forehead and my eyes grew heavy. The dream I had afterwards featured a jewel shining with a golden light, bathing an underwater chamber with it's glow.

The chamber was some kind of tomb, fit for king with it's white walls and soaring roof. On the tomb itself, lying in the center, was a name and title. "Here lies Elendil The Tall, King of The Two Kingdoms." The words were Westernesse. The gem lay on top of the tomb as if an offering. I remember being shaken awake on the shore by a ranger. The experience with Gwindeth was like that of a dream, as much as that of the gem lying underwater.

I was shaken out of the memories of home by Jon. "Someone's been asking for you. The stranger reminded me of Amdir because of his behavior, said he was looking for The Hero of Archet. Probably you, Danagor. He said the matter was urgent and you would find him at Comb, in the Comb and Wattle Inn to the south of here." It was the first time I had been called hero. Jon's attention was drawn to some shady types in the corner.

I tried to pay the tavern keeper, who insisted that the meal was free of charge. "We owe you our lives, Danagor. You gave this town a chance to rebuild." "I can't not pay you for a meal." I left the exact amount of money for the food on the table between us. "You are going to need coin sooner or later." I left the tavern.

Jon had followed me. "He's right you know. You have given this town hope." My horse was waiting for me saddled and prepared for the short journey to Combe. Someone had taken care of my horse. In the light of day, the skelton frames of the burned homes and buildings were clearer, showing the amount of devastation that had been done by the fire. I got in the saddle. "Farewell, Danagor. May the path for you be light." We shook hands. It was doubtful we would meet again. Something had changed in Jon with the death of his father. He now had a greater responsibility to the town and to his father's memory.

I began to ride south, enjoying the feeling of the wind in my face. As I went past Cal's farm, he waved at me. He had a few less farmhands but everything would go back to normalcy for the town. The gate was unblocked and as I went down a hill, Combe stretched before me. From the heavier traffic to the south, the road led to Bree. Combe was between the fields of Bree and the Chetwood. It was small town, with a town hall with few homes dotted here and there among the high hills. Hobbit homes lay in the south east and a clear lake to the north. The Combe and Wattle had an elevated front porch with a stables built underneath it. I counted at least five guards patrolling the streets. Only a few people went outside. The place had a tenseness about it, probably from the sightings of the Nine abroad in Bree.

I paid a stable boy with two silver pieces and made sure my horse was well fed and brushed. All conversation stopped as I walked in. It wasn't that busy. Only a few people were here. They went back to their business after a moment. The word of Archet apparently reached them faster than I did. A young woman with red hair behind the bar, spoke up. "Oh my, a real live hero! We don't get people like you running through town often." I went over to the barmaid. "Has someone been asking for me?" While still appearing busy, she whispered."Toradan told me to sent you upstairs to his room as soon as you arrived. The stairs are across the room there, and Toradan's is the door at the end of the hall." She went back to the bar, furiously scrubbing mugs.

Rangers usually weren't welcome south of their homes, or outside of the Lone Lands. Those lands were sparse and mostly dry, reaching from The Forsaken Inn to the Last Bridge, that marked the entrance to the Trollshaws. Toradan was wearing ranger's grab, but it was streaked with the dust of road, a sign of a long and rough ride. HIs room was dark with only one window providing light. He shook my hand. "The Hero of Archet, I am pleased to meet you. I'm sorry for the cryptic summons, but I dared not betray my whereabouts to just anyone." His voice turned to whisper.

"The Nazgul have chased us out of the Shire, chasing us east and killing most of us. I had hoped to join Amdir, but I heard what happened in Archet. We must find Amdir quickly, if we are to heal him. He is likely being held by the Blackwolds somewhere in the Chetwood. We must find a way to enter their lair and free him, but first we must find them. Speak with Constable Underhill, the hobbit...he may be of help." He stopped talking. A series of heavy footsteps came up the stairs.

We both retreated to the shadows of the room. I hid on one side of the door, while Toradan shoved himself into a closet. I heard the telltale 'click' of a crossbow being loaded. The door swung open and Blackwolds came in. As soon as the enemies were in the doorway, Toradan shot. "CHHOOooom."The crossbow bolt went through three Blackwolds before pinning a fourth to the wall. The bolt was armor piercing.

I leapt from behind the door and Toradan joined me. The hallway became a battle ground. I hacked and stabbed fighting in close quarters like this would be easier with a dagger. _"__Arda, I could've settled with a kitchen knife_." A dagger streaked towards me and I knocked it out of the air with my sword. I ran down the hallway, the remaining three brigands piling on my shield. I disposed of two quick enough, to face what looked like the leader. He rolled backwards and that was when a bottle broke over his head. The brigand fell over as his eyes rolled back.

A hobbit dressed in chainmail and leather with a leaf design on his chest held up a broken bottle neck. His brown hair was cut in a bowl shape. "I thought something was up with those shady types. Name's Bolger." He offered his hand and I shook it. "You're the Hero of Archet aren't you? It's good to have you on our side, I must say!" The hobbit's voice cracked occasionally from excitement. Toradan was no longer beside me. It was kind of unsettling when your kin disappeared as quick as they appeared in times of danger.

The hobbit grinned as he looked down at the Blackwold. I could tell they were Blackwolds by the bright orange sash they wore on their waists. Bright blue leather was also a common part of their dress. "That one there is the recruiter for the local bandits. He's been on the wanted list for years!" A crumpled note had fallen out of his pocket and Bolger picked it up. He read the note quickly.

"Ellie Cutleaf! Well, I should have guessed. She's smart and disreputable, by all accounts... and she's just the sort who might led us to the Blackwold's hideout." We walked outside and he pointed west of Combe. "Ellie lives just in the north west corner of town, by the pond. From the letter, it looks like Ellie is looking to back out from the Blackwold's plans." The Constable's eyes flickered to the center of town. "I would like to go with you, Hero. It seems that the Blackwolds have less men after the Archet raid, but someone sent those men after you."

I was being watched. The fight was an accident, the men that had followed me seemed to have wanted to know what I was after. No wonder Bolger had noticed trouble. He would protect the town while I was gone. "My name is Danagor, just a wanderer in these parts." I certainly didn't feel like a hero. So far, it seemed I brought darkness wherever I went. "You'll be the first to know if Amdir is found." The Constable smiled, "Just Danagor, the wanderer then? Maybe the tales are selling you short then."

_"One deed done in a small town and already I'm known wherever I go." _"Gain Cutleaf's confidence and remember, you're a brigand!" He went back to his post. His eyes watching the east road. Ellie Cutleaf's home had three or four cages around it. She was a dog breeder. I debated whether or not to kick down the door. The problem solved itself when the door opened. "Not another one! You'd be better served just going home. You don't want to join up with the Blackwolds." Ellie was wearing a hunter's uniform along with a blue blouse.

She looked to be expecting a lot more brigands than just me. A sharp "Awooooo!" Came from the north of her house. The door was thrown wide open and the woman came outside with a quiver of arrows. An unshaven man with a blue cape appeared on the slope of a high hill. "Cutleaf!" He shouted. His armor was all thick leather. Two knives hung in their sheaths, but he was using a sword. The beast he was riding was not a wolf. Wolves did'nt grow two or three times the size of normal ones. It's fur was thick and shaggy. It's jaws looked like they could pierce through mail. A Warg.

"I'm gonna bleed you and you're friend for poisoning my wolves!" _"How did I always come at the wrong time?" _Ellie readied her bow. "I hope you know how to hunt Wargs, friend." She loosed an arrow and the rider took a spill down the hillside as the warg reared up and fell over with one of Ellie's arrows in it's mouth. The dismounted figure rose and hurled his daggers at me. I dodged one and blocked the other with my shield. No other bandit's came down the hill. The attacker was alone.

Ellie shot two arrows and they both hit him in the chest. He dropped like a sack of flour, stone dead. Ellie stood at the pond looking at the hill and down the road leading into town. All was quiet. "I'm no brigand, Bolger sent me to see if you needed help." She sighed. "It seems Jagger Jack finally decided to come out of his hidey hole after the food I gave the his dogs was poisoned." She nudged the body with her foot. "I got in too deep, I admit. Got scared. Saw some things that haunt me in their hideout."

"What's your name?" "Danagor." I greeted. "You have the makings of a warrior, Danagor. Thank you for blocking those daggers of his, those things have claimed many lives." She hurled them into the pond. "If Bolger sent you, he knows I am in trouble and wanting out from my deal." She glanced around and pressed something into my hand. "Skunkwood expects you're coming as a possible recruitment. I usually lead one or more new robbers to him each day." She pushed me away. "Go! Reach him before news of his right hand man does."

I unfolded the paper Ellie had given me. It was a map east of town. Beside a waterfall labeled "Staddle Falls" was a black X. The Blackwolds hide out. Approaching on a horse would be too nocitable so I walked. The sun was already near midday, when my stomach growled. It was near lunchtime. The hobbit holes of Staddle were welcoming. The smells from the local market made me hungrier. I stopped at one of the stands. "Oh, my. Big Folk!" The hobbit tending the stand was a little nervous. I smiled and gave him two silver pieces, enough for two chicken legs, some mashed potatoes and a flask of ale. I drew some stares from the residents, so I went behind a grove of trees and ate in silence. I also changed my bandages, inspecting the cuts from the wolf I got earlier and the night before. They had healed nicely, just scratches that would fade over time.

I threw the bandages away and the remains of my lunch, starting again for the Blackwolds hideout. On the eastern border of Staddle, I came to the Midgewater Mashes. I looked again at the map. The map seemed to be divided between Staddle and the marshes. Turning north, I noticed a well worn path. The path wound below a high hill, where a steam fed the marshes. A waterfall fell over the hill, a door next to it's left side. I had found their hideout. Only a person looking west could spot the door from where I was standing. The wood was pockmarked, the iron rusted. It opened with a creak.

Two blackwolds stood guard next to a second door in the back of a cave. Torches were bracketed onto the walls. One of them spat onto the ground. "You must be the new blood Ellie was talking about. Skunkwood's waiting for you inside." The brigand opened the door, squeaking on it's hinges. Inside the cave was damp, the sound of dripping water from the stream above hit the cave floor. Tables were thrown haphazardly around the cave, each of them showing signs of damage. A set of iron bars and a locked door barred one tunnel of the cave.

Taking the unbarred path, I walked into a smaller cavern. Blue colored torches bathed the room in their light. Sitting on top of a rock, crudely fashioned into the shape of a throne was who I assumed to be Skunkwood. His clothes were cleaner and two wolves sat next to him on each side. "You must be the new recruit Ellie sent me. After our losses at Archet, I'll be glad to have new blood in the fold." He spoke with authority, not a man to be questioned. "I am glad to join, but I heard about a ranger you captured in Archet." Skunkwood smiled, showing yellowed teeth. "Amdir was his name, but what to call him _now _I have no idea. It's unnatural what's happening to him. Eogan tells me he'll be a boon to our services but all he has done so far is rave like a madman."

He smiled to himself, a smirk on his face. "Why don't you go check on him for me? The last guard that got assigned to him just left his shift." He gave me a ring of keys. A shadow passed over his face. "He's not exactly what you would call a man anymore." He made some signal and I found myself back in the main cavern, being escorted by two more bandit's. They both had clubs in their hands. One muttered to himself. "What are we doing with men such as Eogan? I'd rather leave this place." The other nudged him. "Careful, fool! He might hear you."

I unlocked the door, going deeper into the cave. Rounding a bend, I saw something that made my blood chill. The skin on Amdir's face had turned gray, the color of ashes. His eyes were a solid red a slightly slanted. The nose and lips were completely gone, giving the impression that his skull was going to press itself forward. "Make it stop...Make it stop." He held onto the bars of his cell. "The voice it ...tells me things...commands me. Tells me about the end of what is and the beginning of the new. It calls me...it calls me to service..." His voice was raspy and a whisper. "The wound is so...cold." The guards backed away trembling. Lidless eyes focused on me. "You...I remember..." He trailed off. Then his body stood upright with a jerking motion. "I must serve the Dark Lord!" Amdir shouted it, the yell paralyzed me while the others slumped unconscious. He ripped the cell door off it's hinges. Amdir ran past me.

"Help! Help me!" The cry broke me out of my stunned state. There was someone else in there. The cell was bigger than it appeared. An old woman was shackled to a post. Her skin sagged from age slightly, her hair white and hanging in uneven bangs. Her cloth clothes were rumpled and dirt stained. She was about half my height. I unshackled her and she rubbed where the bands had held her. Rage blazed in me. _"How dare the Blackwolds harm an old lady!" _The elderly were to be cared for, a source of wisdom and wit to those who least expected it.

"Thank you kind stranger! That poor man is passing into the shadow world." Amdir was midway to becoming a Cargul. Even midway was sign that I had failed. No healing of men could save him now. She shuffled forward. Shouts came from behind me, followed by the sounds of a pitched fight. The guards rose from their unconsciousness. The old lady moved faster than what I had thought possible for her age. She hit them both on the back of the head with her staff. "How good it will be to greet the sun!" She began making her way to the exit, on the way out the way was blocked by Skunkwood. "Traitor! You have freed the prisoners!"

His wolves came at me snarling. The old woman leapt into their path, using one end of her staff like a spear. The first blow went into a wolf's mouth and used it's charge against it, by throwing it over her head. The other wolf bit the staff and she twirled it away, for it to come down like a club on it's head. The wolf behind her rose and collapsed. Skunkwood leapt into battle with his sword swinging. I parried, blocked with my shield and pressed it up against him like a wall. Ducking, I slashed his thigh. Skunkwood's cry of pain echoed around the cave. As he was down, the old woman finished the job with her staff, knocking him out.

Other brigands lay around us, probably Amdir's work. "He will live, just wake up with a splitting headache." The old woman assured me. _"One life spared at the price of many." _I had killed before to hunt and had seen the bodies of those that had died from sickness or old age. These men were just men, just trying to scrape by the only way they knew. War had claimed them. In that cave, surrounded by death and pain, I came to realize that something bigger was happening than just the threat of Angmar. What I couldn't tell, but I felt it in my bones. Suddenly, I felt very old.

The old woman pinched me. "Ow!" The old woman grinned. "You standing as if struck dumb. I do'nt want to be here when _this _one awakens." She nudged the unconscious form of Skunkwood. "Shouldn't you be after that Amdir fellow?" That got me moving again. Almost to the exit, I stopped in black. Amdir had stopped. In front of him stood Toradan. His eyes were wide. "By the Valar! It is too late!" Amdir mumbled to himself. "The morgul blade...the voice...the eye." Toradan brandished his sword and everyone of us went still. "Stay back! It is to late for him!" Toradan's eyes went back to Amdir. I remembered my own shock at seeing what the ranger had turned into.

"I am sorry, my friend. I must end this." Toradan's voice was soft. As if he was beside his friends deathbed. I tried to speak, but Toradan gave me a look that cut me off. I felt helpless. Stabbing a man in the back was not fitting of a Ranger. Amdir spoke, his voice had changed to a humorous one, but there was nothing funny about it. "End this? Kill Me? Is this the compassion of the Dunedain?" His attention turned inwards. "The voice was right... I shall end you my brother!" Quick as lighting Amdir struck, his blade going deep into Toradan."And every other Ranger as well!" He ran faster than what was normal, his sprint desperate. The door opened and closed with a slam that shook it's hinges.

I went to Toradan's side. It was not good. Toradan had not been stabed with a morgul blade, but the wound would claim his life. Toradan coughed up blood. "You must warn the Rangers...Strider...stop Amdir if you can." His voice became strained. His whispered his next words in my ear. "The Midgewater Marshes...Amdir will now claim two more rangers...I know it with certainty..." "Strider must be told...Bree..Prancing Pony... Barliman.." The breath was leaving him. "Danagor...I am proud to have you here...remember... hope, courage, love...can defeat darkness." Toradan stilled, his spirit going to the Halls of Mandos, along with two other rangers whose names I didn't know.

I stood up. The old woman shivered. "What a terrible sight for these old eyes! The blade that stung Amdir has almost finished it's work and he is nothing more than a servant of the enemy." She looked at me her eyes a bit clearer than usual. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine now that I am out of that cage. You have done me a service today, Danagor." She ran through the door in that fast walk she had, her movements swift. Something was off about that old woman.

The sun was beginning to set as I reached Comb. As much as I wanted to bid farewell to Bolger and Cutleaf, duty to a dead man came first. I left a note saying what happened at the Blackwold's cave and a farewell. Taking the south road and going west at the next fork, my horse came into Bree. The entire village was surrounded by a stone wall, the buildings crunched together. I stopped at the main gate. A slot opened in the wall and a bedraggled old man peered through. "What brings you to Bree?" "I am heading for the Prancing Pony to meet Barliman." The gate opened at my statement. "The barkeeper? Must be word of his ale going around."

Going down the road at a walking pace, I turned right at a fountain noticing that the townsfolk here were dirty and ragged. Mud caked the stones that made up the road. Everything seemed huddled together, cowering before the darkness. The Prancing Pony was on the side of a hill, built so that only the second floor had the view over the wall. A scratched sign swung in the breeze, the paint was peeling and the bronze rusting. Stabling my horse, I noticed that the stables were nearly full. I paid one of the stableboys who was a hobbit. Apparently Hobbits weren't just found in the Shire. His clothes were muddy and stitched in some places. I gave him five silver pieces, well over the price of stabling. "Thank you, sir!" The hobbit nearly bowed.

The Prancing Pony was loud inside. Less of a risk to be overheard. I caught sight of a few daggers though. Behind the barman was a crossbow. That sure would make anybody think twice about starting something. The barman was balding slightly, with bedraggled straw colored hair. Lines etched into his face, probably sixty or seventy. "Good evening, sir! You look to be an adventuring type, so we have nice warm beds for customers."

I stepped towards the bar. "I am looking for a man called Strider is he here?" The barkeep when silent as if trying to remember. "Strider...It's odd he came in right before you did. Seems to be waiting for something, hasn't come down from his room yet. Insisted that it be over looking the road." He pointed up the stairs to my right. "Turn right before the second set of stairs at the end of the hallway, but I'd be careful around him. The brooding sort that like the shadows often have the most weapons on them." Going up the stairs, I found that the hall wound around the second floor, with another set of stairs going to another room. I knocked on the door to the right. The door creaked open. "Hand me your weapons." I took off my bow and sword. I placed them on the ground. The door opened wider.

Strider was framed in the doorway. A bow was in his hands. His tense posture relaxed slightly. "If it was someone else, I would be concerned about they managed to find me. Pick up your weapons, never leave them on the ground unattended." I went into his room to find it mostly dark, except for the light coming from outside. "The Blackwolds have been defeated, but not without cost. Toradan and two other rangers are dead. Amdir has now become a servant of the shadow, and has escaped. It was Toradan's dying wish that Amdir be stopped." I summed up what happened wityh Amdir in a few sentences, while the adventure took a day.

Strider slumped into a chair. "Your tidings are grim, Danagor. Though not unexpected. This is a plan of the Nine, though swift action may unravel those plans. East of Bree, there is a Blackwold camp that I have been watching closely and the shadow has fallen on it. I believe Amdir will be found there tonight." Strider stood. "Are you ready? The shadow is strongest at night." I had came this far and would go wherever this road took me. "I am."

We left the Pancing Pony, blending into the crowd that Barilman was serving. We left through the South Gate, the road turning east. Strider guided me over the road going northeast into the Southdowns. The moon hung in the sky, serving as a light to guide us. We went along the border, following the Greenway. Stopping short of the old ruins of a fort built into the hills. Campfires blazed within, but tension filled the air. Two other rangers approached us.

"Danagor, this is Torthann and Lenglinn." The chill in the air wasn't natural. Their greetings were silent. "We should split our strength. For the good of Middle-earth, none can be allowed to escape. Lenglinn and I will look for another way inside, while you and Torthann search for Amdir." Strider and Lenglinn faded into the stillness of the night. "Let us go, Danagor. Before Amdir can escape." Torthan started down the hill, as we got closer I realized that no one was on guard. Someone was running towards us. We both crouched behind a bush. Their voices came over the wind. "What were those things? That dwarf has gone mad!" We knocked arrows and let them fly, each finding their mark in their chests.

"Foreword! Let us root out this camp." Torthan charged through the gate, I went in behind him. We cut down the brigands surrounding their fires, stopping just before an archway leading deeper into the ruins. As we caught our breath's we heard a conversation going on behind the archway. The voice that spoke was gruff."Why are you so worried, Blackwold?" Another voice spoke, Skunkwood's. ""What do you want with me! I don't know anything!" His voice was on the edge of hysteria. The gruff voice spoke again. "There, there now. There's no need for concern...yet. Did you think service to Angmar came without a cost?" He spoke sagely, with that we are both in the same boat way.

We charged out as one. The voice had come from a dwarf. Though it wasn't exactly a dwarf. Dwarves eyes don't glow completely green. He wore battle armor and a crown on his head. His skin was paler than usual. "Ah! I have found them after all. You are relieved of your obligations, Blackwold." The dwarf struck Skunkwood down with his hammer, breaking his skull with a sharp _crack! _"Now to deal with you two." The dwarf came at us swinging his heavy hammer. The first strike hit the stones on the floor, lodging it in the floor.

I rolled behind him and backed up as he circled it around his head. Getting hit with that thing would like being hit by a troll club. We needed to get him off balance to defeat him. Torthan seemed to know it as well and we began a game of "chase" around the arch. His hammer never hit as we kept a taunting distance from him. "Stand and fight, cowards!" The dwarf grew madder, swing his weapon with more and more force. When his hammer lodged deeply into the wall, we struck. Our blades went deep inside him. The dwarf simply laughed at his wound. No one could have survived a blow like that. "I have other business to deal with...my servant shall deal with you!"

He left his hammer behind as he backed away from our swords, the blades sliding out of him with no blood to tell he had been wounded. Two skeletons armed with swords came out of the ground. "Wights!" The dead attacked and we each took one. The skeletons wore mail, so we had to pierce through it and the spine. The skeleton I was fighting swept his sword around in wide slashes. Blocking with my shield, I stabbed t in the chest and it collapsed with a clatter followed by Torthan's enemy.

"Who was that dwarf and by what power has he to command the dead? I fear that something greater is yet before us." We went beyond the arch, past Skunkwood's body. Up a series of stairs, we found Amdir surrounded by five Nazgul. We became rooted to the spot. "You shall not interefere! Amdir is now a servant of the Great Eye!" In a place of such evil, we were of no consequence to the Nazgul. "Amdir, take on the robes of the Cargul, The Foresworn!" A hooded man in leather and pale red robes ran into the open chamber. "My Lords, The Rangers approach with fire!" The voice that responded was dismissive. "It is too late. Amdir's change is complete!" Amdir or what was left of Amdir rose from the altar he was placed on. He now wore the bright red and gold runes of the Cargul.

"Come brethren, now is not the time for a fight. We leave these fools in your care, Eogan." The Nazgul disappeared into the shadows. The hooded man rose. "Yes, Lords." Strider entered and I could move again. The Cargul that was once Amdir joined Eogan. The two fought with desperation, but it was four against two. Eogan fell under Strider's blade. I fought the Cargul.

The wraith fought with broad slashes and stabs. Parry, strike, parry, strike. I threw everything I had at the Cargul. Torthan joined me. Then it collapsed, Strider's blade in it's side. All that was left was empty robes. "It is a day both dreary and joyous. It grieves me that we were forced to slay Amdir, but a relief that he should now know peace." Strider spoke solemnly. "Let us leave this place." The ride back to Bree was silent. Amdir's death hung over us like a cloud. How could such men fall? In the face of such evil, what could anyone do?

* * *

**"Those who fall into Darkness will soon be ruled by it."**

**Reviews keep me writing.**


	4. The Dead Rise

_**All disclaimers apply**_.

**Inspiration: "Skeleton Attack" by Rohan Stevenson**

I heard a faint crow caw and the fluttering of wings as birds flew east. The Rangers I was riding with knocked arrows and fired at the birds, each taking a bird down. "Crebian, spies of the enemy." Lengilin explained. The flock changed course now going southwest some peeling off to go east. "Strider, before going to Amdir's aid I chased off a few of those birds from Bolger. He apparently let something slip about a ring and a Baggins." Strider almost fell off his horse from shock.

"My brother's you must watch the Old Forest, I will be at the Prancing Pony. Danagor, I know it is late and food will strengthen you, but seek out Tom Bombadil at the end of the Withywindle, the river that runs through the Old Forest. Tell him Aragorn sent you. The safety of my charges are more important right now." We parted ways, I followed the other Rangers west once we reached the sight of Bree. Going over a creek, I realized that Strider had given me his name. I couldn't place it, but it sounded important to be hidden under a false name.

Passing the Northern Barrowdowns, Lengilin spoke. "Follow the west border of the Barrowdowns and you will come to the source of the Withywindle River. Follow the banks and you will find Tom's house but beware Old Man Willow." Then an afterthought seemed to occur. "Or find Tom's wife Goldberry. She often helps travelers in need, but she seems to saddened by something judging by the waters of her spring."

I rode into the Old Forest, soon losing sight of the road. I was tired and hungry. At least my horse seemed all right. I didn't want to walk when speed was needed. The horse seemed to want to go west. I let it. Horses were sensitive to nature. After a while, I came to a pond the waters slightly murky. A series of falls fed the pond. An elf maid sat on a stone singing softly of starlight and water.

She wore a green dress, with flowing gold embroidery sewn in the patterns of water. Her eyes were a clear shade of blue. Hair the color of bright sunlight. "You let your horse lead you here, that shows good sense. Not many would let their horse wander." I got off my horse and bowed. "Lady Goldberry, Aragorn sent me to hunt Crebian birds that will soon bring great danger to a group of travelers." Goldberry smiled. "You are well spoken for a man of the Dúnedain. Aragorn is a friend to my husband and a friend of mine. We have taken care of the birds and the group of travelers Aragorn seeks just left this forest." She laid a white hand on my shoulder. "Come, you need rest and the forces of shadow are best fought during the morn."

Goldberry led me through the forest. Wherever she went, the forest seemed to brighten. All the woodland animals watched us as we passed. Tom's house was made of stone and wood. The windows hung from the attic providing views over the forest and the waters. I heard light music coming from the house. Goldberry opened the door and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hoy now! Hey now! What's all this fussing? We've not had so many guests since our wedding!" Tom was dressed in a blue jacket, leather pants and hat. He skipped about the room, his arms away from him flapping up and down with his steps. "My name is Danagor, Aragorn sent me to hunt the Crebian in this forest." Tom skipped over to me and kept at it in place. "Hoy now! Aragorn's a name I know, and a friend of Old Tom's! Oh but you look all dreary, eat and rest. Then we'll be merry!"

The meal was a mixture of herbs and other garden grown foods. The food made me sleepy and I admit I passed out at the table. When I awoke, the morning sun shone in through the window. A blanket had been placed over my shoulders, my bow, quiver, shield and sword hung on a wall. Today would be a good day.

"Hey now! The sleeper awakes and just in time. Ol' Tom has a problem with the barrows, waking when the dead should be resting. Follow Tom and we'll sing a tune that will make the dead ones rattle! Wife left to hold the streams and ponds of the forest, while the Master is away." He skipped out the door, and I grabbed my equipment. Getting up, I realized that my armor had been cleaned for me and put back on without me noticing.

Tom was strange, but I followed him to the Barrowdowns. As soon as we left the forest border, the mists grew thicker. Clouds gathered in the sky. Everything was a gray shade. Barrows dotted the landscape. We approached a high hill, with an entrance set into it. The dwarf from earlier stood there along with another of the Nine. Tom stopped skipping and my hope turned to doubt. _"What are we doing here? This place feels wrong." _The tenseness in the air seemed greater than it had been, even where five Nazgul had gathered. The Witch King of Angmar himself. I knew it in my gut.

Tom whispered. "This is an evil place and barred from me for the time being. You be careful, or the dead might make you be dancing with them." The Witch King spoke, his voice deep. "Come, Skorgrím." They went into the barrow. Heart in throat, I followed. Down twisting passages, carved in stone. Tombs lined the way, some broken open from the inside. Blood stains often dotted the floor. Lit torches flickered, the mist at my feet covering the ground. Dwarves rushed me. "You heard Skorgrím. No one get past!" This is so wrong, Dwarves are usually a peaceful folk, not against Middle Earth at all. They didn't give me much of a choice so I cut them down.

After cutting down five or six dwarves with a mix of axes and swords, I came to a small chamber. The dwarf waiting for me was taller than usual and built with muscles bulging underneath leather armor. He swung his axe and I cut it in half. My skills from all this fighting were improving. I only had a few cuts so far. The dwarf squealed like a pig and ran to a loose section of wall. "My lord said we couldn't be defeated!" I heard a clatter that I had heard once before. Wights.

The dwarf screamed as the wall fell on top of him. Two wights emerged with swords drawn. "The dead suffer no intruders." The voice was dry and hollow as if it hadn't been used for years. _"How can it talk? It has no tongue or anything!"_ I knocked one's head off with my first strike but it continued slashing around the room. I dealt with the other wright by sweeping it's legs off, but it still kept coming. Had to admit they were persistent. I dealt with them both almost lazily. Nothing left but a pile of bones scattered around.

Beyond the false wall, I came to a hallway that ended with a series of steps leading down into a high chamber. The Witch King was speaking and I listened. "Ivar is with us, my regent in the north awaits you once your tasks are complete." The dwarf said something that I couldn't make out. "Saruman is of no consequence, he will not find what he seeks. Our plans in Eriador are reaching their end." The Witch King paused as if searching for something.

Fear froze me to the spot as the hood turned towards me. "It appears we have an audience of a fool and fools aren't to be suffered to dog your steps. The Dead will take you, Danagor." The Lord of the Nazgul and the dwarf Skorgrím left the chamber, the doors closing behind them. A wight armed with two swords emerged from the ground. We fought around the chamber, sparks flying. I rolled behind it and it formed an X behind it's back with it's swords. I kept rolling and leapt up in front of it, my blade severing it in two. It collapsed with a screech and then reformed except now it had four arms. Two axes had now joined it's swords. _"I'm in trouble." _

Once it's arms started swinging it was hard for it to stop. The dead warrior was top heavy. I thrust forward with my shield, sending one of it's swords flying. I rolled behind and slashed upward, cutting it from waist to shoulder. It fell and stayed dead this time. The doors behind me were craved in the shape of a skull and the doors opened once the guardian was dead. Through the doors lay another chamber, surrounded by standing tombs. Some were vacant.

Sitting in an ornate throne made of bones was a heavily armored wight. It's armor was also made of bones. Twisted together it was elaborate and disturbing. The ribs made a chest plate while leg and arm bones made a sort of plating over the arms and legs. "Greetings, fool. If you seek an audience with me you may approach." I had never heard a wight speak like this before and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Imagine a voice that hasn't been used for years mixed with a dry throat. Only the dark power than keeps it alive speaks through it.

I approached. "Well met! My Master sends his greetings. I grant thee the boon of an audience before I kill thee. Thou seemed desirous of certain knowledge, so I will give it. For the Dead speak not!" The wight laughed and the sound echoed all around me. It was high and cold. "My Master seeks a great a power for the Dark Lord, but the Dark Lord has more designs than this. The Pale Dwarf shall go to the north and gather an army in the name of Angmar and the Witch-king! The gaunt one, a great power himself and to whom I owe this form, goes to the east. There, in Agamaur, he shall awaken a Power that lies sleeping in the waters. With her under his command, the skies will turn to blood and all shall despair! Now thine audience comes to an end. Thy death awaits thee."

The Wight Lord charged, his first strike almost skewering me. A long cut grazed my side, sapping my strength. Poison. I ducked and his blade hit my shield. I blocked and parried, but I was getting weaker. My sword swings getting slower. The Wight Lord seemed to know this and was in no hurry to add to his ranks of the dead. He swept my legs out from under me and raised his sword high as my vision swam in and out. A distant voice called, "Hey do, merry do!" The wight began cowering. ""What? It cannot be!" The wall behind him smashed apart and Tom emerged. "What be you a-thinking? Dead men should not be waking!" Lighting blasted the wight to ashes. _"Vala." _Tom wasn't done yet.

"Vanish into sunlight, leave your barrows empty!" He stretched his hands towards the roof and rocks fell from the ceiling burying the crypts. Tom stood over me with concern. "Oh dear, scrapes and sickness. Ol Tom will heal you quick as leaping." I passed out, sleep taking me. I awoke back in Tom's house, his wife Goldberry drawing out the poison and healing my wounds with words in Quenya. The magic of the waters took away the poison, witch had colored the wound on my side a shade of dark green and black. The wound closed and I fell back asleep.

When I awoke again, Tom was whistling cheerfully. He skipped around the room in his dancing steps. "Heal fast you do, scar will stay with you for the rest of your days. Was it worth the trouble? Did you learn your lesson? Leave the Dead to sleep their dreamless sleep and walk yourself upon the green grass under the sun!" I got up and found my armor had been repaired and cleaned again. It seemed that old magic flowed in this house. "Who was that wight Tom? What was the Lord of the Nazgul doing with someone called Ivar?" Tom's face went pale.

"Old barrow-wights from Angmar came. They disturb the peace and trouble folk who wander through their mounds. Let the Dead sleep and leave their troubles in the earth. Unless of course you wake them, dancing on their rooftops! Hey, come, my friend. Linger here no longer. To Bree you should be a-going. You've an old friend of Tom's there who awaits you!" My horse neighed outside. I was still troubled by what I had heard. Saddling my horse, I noticed that it had been fed and watered. The sun was high in the sky.

In my pack, somebody had placed Lembas bread in it. A boon for lengthy journeys. "Goldberry made that for you, friend Danagor. Blessed by the river daughter, they will bring you out of a scrapes. Farewell!" Tom patted my horse and it broke into a full gallop. I barely held on in time. The ride to Bree was fast, the landscape passing quickly. Windswept and disheveled, I realized I had arrived the Prancing Pony. Looking back, I realized that the gate I went through had been trampled down while I was away. It was a blessing by the Valar that no one had been trampled by my horse going at a full gallop through the streets.

Stabling my horse was a challenge, my knees had gone wobbly. I walked left and right as if drunk. I steadied myself before the bar inside the tavern. "Oh, hello there again." Barliman approached, cleaning a glass. "I was so busy that I didn't see you, but there's never a moment's peace here, if I may say so. I was so worried that he'd sour my beer for letting Mr, uh, Underhill and his friends go off with that Strider fellow!" Apparently Strider had done his job in watching for his charges. "Who came looking for Strider?" I asked. Someone was here waiting for me.

It took Barliman awhile to answer. "He who? Oh! Why that would be Mr. Gandalf, of course! They say he's a Wizard or some such, and I'll say there must be something to those tales, for my beer's never been better! He was so pleased..." He trailed off. "Begging your pardon, but I do run on sometimes. Gandalf said to send anyone looking for Strider up to his room. It's up the stairs just beyond Strider's."

I went up the stairs, before knocking I swallowed. I admit I was nervous meeting Gandalf the Grey. I knocked. "Why do you knock? Knocking is not for those that are expected. If you are expected, you can walk right in. An enemy would create an enormous amount of ruckus and noise." I walked in. The Gray Pilgrim acted just like some of the old men among my village. Grumpy.

Gandalf was dressed as the tales said...gray robes and pointy hat. His old eyes bored into mine. Studying me. I let him make of me as he wished. I seemed to pass some sort of test because he smiled warmly. Immediately I felt at ease. "You are lost or seek me with intent. By the look in your eye, I gather the latter, though I also sense you sought another...Strider perhaps? Then we have both come too late. Our mutual friend has left, bearing with him a terrible burden. If he set you to a task, it could not be much less urgent that his own. Tell me your tale, and I will deliver it to him."

I simply said, "Angmar stirs, Gandalf. I have seen the Wicth King himself in the Barrowdowns and this is what I heard from the Lord of the Nazgul and a Wight Lord. Someone called Ivar goes east to Agamaur, while a dwarf called Skorgrím goes north to gather an army in his name. Other than this, he mentioned he had a regent in Angmar and Saruman was no matter." Gandalf took in my words. "So Angmar arises? It is grim news, but I am not surprised. Nevertheless, I cannot turn aside from my own task, for the fate of all Middle-earth hangs upon it." He looked upon me, eyes boring into my soul. "This burden I place upon you in the name of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth. Hinder the Witch-king's plan, if you may. Whether east or north, I bid you good fortune." He shook my hand.

Courage flared in my heart. "You have done much good for the people of Bree-land, but the Shadow out of Angmar spreads far and wide. I have learned from Gwaihir the Windlord that another of my order has found corruption in the Lone-lands, east of Bree. It may even be related to the dangers you encountered in the Great Barrow. I will send word to Radagast that you are coming to his aid. You will find him on the steps of Ost Guruth, home of the Eglain." Gandalf paused. "Of course, he wanders off on occasion. I myself must hurry to Rivendell, to speak with Elrond about this matter."

We left the Pony, and exited out the south gate and turned east. The Midgewater Marshes went past on our left. The road went through a small forest. It was late afternoon by the time we entered the Lone Lands. The road turned into a dust trail. Gandalf's cloak whipped about him with a fury, his eyes steely. Every now and then a butterfly would fly to him and keep pace. After a few moments it would fly off to be replaced by another. The Wise were said to have the ability to talk to one another across vast distances and send animal messages to others. A white butterfly flew to him and Gandalf was away like a speeding arrow. It wasn't natural for a horse to gallop that fast.

The landscape was hilly, the road going across arid regions. The plant life here was small and struggling. Weathertop stretched high from the landscape, an abandoned fortress. The sun was setting and I heard a loud call. "Help! Darkness, corruption, the Dead!" A man appeared on the road, I brought my horse to a stop. Rearing high, the man calmed my horse with a whisper on the wind.

The old man skin was leathery and tan, with a brown hat that looked like it had been trodden on. Bird poop stained his scraggly hair. His eyes were slightly unfocused. His brown robes were dirty and stained. Radagast the Brown. "You came in time! Gandalf just passed saying he'd bring help, but one can't be picky when help is offered." I got off my horse. "I..." Radagast stopped mid-sentence. "There it goes again! I can never.." He stopped as a sigil fell into his hand. "Ah, there it is. Ivar the Bloodhand has come to Agamaur and the men here now call it the Red Swamp. I have seen an army of wights forming and the Red Maid must be purified from the old blood that has been spilled." I used the time to break off a small piece of Lembas and I felt healthier than I'd ever been.

A sled driven by rabbits came thundering up. They were larger than the rabbits back home, about the size of small dogs. One of them began thumping his leg hurriedly. "Quite right, my friend. We must hurry." He gazed at my horse and it galloped away the lighted ruins of a tower built into the side of the hills. "She'll be fine, your Sarto." With a start, I realized that I didn't know my own horse's name.

"Come on! Ivar isn't going to wait." Radagast grabbed my shoulder and before I knew it, we were crossing towards the hills, heading for a sheer rock wall. "I should've stayed at Evendim!" I yelled. As the high cliff got closer, I made the mistake of looking at my feet. The ground was at least four feet below us. We landed in a swamp just outside the cliffs witch now had a path between them. Swamp water went everywhere as the sled landed and kept going. Passing the high hills, everything around us turned red, the mists, the ground, the water, the plant life, the stones. Everything.

The sled stopped. Radagast let go of my shoulder and I simply fell backwards with a _squish_ as the mud of the swamp broke my fall. "This is no time for a mud bath." Radagast appeared over me. I got up wobbly in the knees. The ground erupted in front of us and four wights appeared. Radagast swept them away with a few moves of his staff, twirling around so fast that it blurred.

All that remind of the wights were a few bones. The wizard began walking as if nothing remarkable happened. I followed, having now reached the point where I had seen everything. The wights were easy, they were the same ones from the barrows. Parry, thrust, slash. A few times Radagast had to open gates, going deeper into the ruins. Inside I saw another wight who was clearly the leader by his throne of stone. He wore only a kilt and his skin was purple and black, like his sword. His smile made me even more nauseated.

"Greetings Radagast and Danagor, my master send you his greetings and regrets that he will not be here in person to watch you die. Your deaths however will have some use for your blood will be spilt into the spring of the Red Maid." He pointed towards an urn. "Of old, the lady who watched these waters would calm them with water from this urn. Sacred water served her well, but blood of the men of Rhudaur and Arthedain has given Ivar control." Radagast's face turned red.

"Prideful words, Neven. In fact, someone has heard those words." Radagast stepped aside and I saw my first Oathbreaker. It was a pale white ghost in white and pale leather armor, dented for use and done in the old style, back when Angmar was waging war. "You forget your place, Dannasen." The wight said. "You may have your freedom if you kill these two." The Oathbreaker simply spoke in a tired voice,"I am neither with you or against you. You gave me a command as my lord, but I can choose to do nothing."

The wight's hands twisted. "Fine, I'll deal with them myself." His first strike was for the wizard, and I blocked it expertly. Radagast began chanting of nature and clean waters. I felt myself being uplifted by it, my swings matching the wights in speed. I slashed his arm off and ran through the chest. The wight clattered to the floor, his bones and clothes sinking back into the stone. I felt something become undone behind me, like a windy breath of the free. Dannasen's form shone brighter and a sword appeared in his hands. He saluted us with his blade in the air.

"Rise my brother's! Fight the spawn of Angmar!" All around us, shades appeared and the sounds of battle began in the swamp. Shouts, yells, the twang of bows. Metal on metal. I also heard laughing. The high, cold laugh of a wight lord. Except it was louder and echoed without being in a cavern. "Ivar." Radagast nodded in agreement. "You must keep Ivar busy, while I purify the waters." Radagast picked up the urn with a grunt.

Outside it was something out of a ghost story. The Oathbreakers fought against the wights, pathetically few against so many. The wights were thickest to the north an army of skeltons in armor and armed with a mixture of weapons. I began to go north, advancing towards the wall of death. I stabbed one in the ribs and cut another's arm off. Piles of wight bones and empty armor surrounded me. Going north would be suicide, so I began cutting down wights one after the other. Arrows flew, swords clashed between the armies. Spears splintered, shields rattled.

I had a few wounds but nothing serious so far. At least I was hitting them a lot more than they hit me. My shield was rattled so many times by blows that it began to dent. I also learned that a well placed shield smash in the ribs caused them to fall apart quickly. The guards at the north parted. A wight stood at one end and leisurely walked forward. A spiked crown sat on his skull and a club was his weapon. He was all flesh and blood except his skin was pale and black. It hung off his skelton in places. A Gaunt Lord, a summoner of the dead.

At the front he stopped, surveying the battle. He looked straight at me. "I thought I smelled the living enter here. Have come to sacrifice yourself before me like the others?." I gripped my sword. "A challenge then? That makes it all the more fun for me." Ivar flung himself into battle, his club swinging over my head.

I blocked and parried. Ivar's club smashed into my side and I was flung into a tree. It's roots sprung up and began to curl around me. I hacked and slashed through the roots. Ivar had probably fractured a rib by the pain in my side. I ducked and the club clanged against my shield. I stabbed forward the blade sinking into his gut. I sidestepped his next blow and it landed on my foot. He had faked it. The pain made my eyes water.

You can certainly tell when a wight is happy, because the air darkens from it's malice. With my good foot, I smashed against his chest with my shield with all the strength I could muster. Ivar flailed against my shield but I kept it pressed up against him, blocking every blow that came over or under my shield. He was so focused on getting away from me that I could steer him around. I raised my injured foot, hissing in pain. I pushed him again and he fell into the roots of the tree that had captured me. There was no way Ivar could get out of this with his blunt weapon.

The tree covered him completely and heard a crunching sound. The dead from the north waited and something rose from the red waters. The Red Maid. She was nature corrupted, beauty turned to evil. Her hair was a dull red her eyes, glowing orange orbs. Her skin was grayed, her dress moss, vines and strips of cloth. She smiled and her white teeth were all pointed. "Your intentions are your folly, and so you shall meet doom where you hoped to find victory." She spoke as with the red swamp, it was guttural. Not at all like Goldberry's softness. She pounced and ran into my shield when I raised my shield. I heard her cry of outrage as she scratched it mindlessly.

This was so wrong. At seeing how the darkness had corrupted her, something inside me snapped and I swept my shield upwards. _"__Clang!" _The corrupted River maid hit the dirt unconscious. "Radagast! Whatever you're doing to cure her do it now!" She stirred and I hit her again. _"I'm going to have to beg for mercy when she's cured." _ "Almost there! Goodness sakes!" I heard something splash and something sent me flying.

My head hit something and I couldn't get up. Just roll over like a dog in the mud to see what happened. The Red Maid rose from the waters and this time it was as it should be. She was dressed like Goldberry except in red and silver. Her hair was cleaned, her skin now healthier. Her eyes were normal expect for the strange of color of red in them. She looked around herself in bewilderment as if seeing for the first time, not knowing what to make of her new senses.

Spotting the wights she waved her hand and they fell into ashes. The red mists departed and the corrupt feeling of the swamp faded. The ground and trees changed back to their normal hues. The waters clear. A sigh of clean wind blew through the swamp. The ruins were now just heaps of stone, nothing at all sinister about them. The army of Oathbreakers gathered themselves and Dannasen threw himself on the ground. "Please forgive us my lady. We were blinded by Angmar and the promises it made to us." "I hold none of you to blame, go now to the rest you deserve." Her voice was soft as her sisters. The ghosts faded on the wind.

She turned towards me and I tried to speak. All that came out was a grunt. My toes were on fire, my chest tight. The river maid made a stream of water appear out of the air and it wound around my chest and feet. I could feel the bones begin to mend. "You did well, Danagor. My name is Naruhel." She helped to sit me up. I still felt slightly concussed from hitting my head. She put her hand on the back of my skull and my vision came sharper. She gave me a a vial of water, except it was sparkled with it's own light. "You can only use that only once, Danagor. This is the waters of Cuiviénen, where the elves awoke. The vial will only open when you need it most."

I pocketed it. Radagast came into sight. "Lady Naruhel, you have been cleansed?" Naruhel took a few steps back from me. "I have and you're friend here has defeated Ivar, by pushing him into the roots of an angry Huorn." The tree in question shook it's leaves and branches, and ashes came from the ground to be blown away by the breeze. "Against a courageous heart and trust in one's allies, such power means nothing. Thank you for your help here, friend of the Wise. We have done well this day, Ivar's spreading corruption is stopped." Naruhel turned into water and sank back into the waters.

"The people of the Northdowns will need help, if you are to stop that Dourhand dwarf you mentioned to Gandalf. I must bid you farewell, may your path be true." Radagast disappeared into the swamp, immediately blending in. I walked to the lighted ruins I had seen before and walked up a hill leading to a courtyard filled with people. Their clothes were patched in places and most of them cleared from my path. I began looking for a place to stay. Everything was open to the sky and the tents were taken.

I approached an old, weathered man. "Excuse me, is there some place I can stay for the night?" The old man clearly gave me a look that said _"You're not from around here are you?" _The man wordlessly pointed towards the east, where a fire was burning. I sat down next to it and gazed into the flames, trying to make sense of all the events of the previous days. It was too much to think about, change had come faster than the coming of autumn. It was all about a ring, so small a thing to cause pain.

I shivered not from the cold but from all that I had seen. I had seen the dead rise from their graves, nature in a state of decay and very much evil. Helping people was always something I did, not complaining about even the most thankless task. Well, I did complain when I was younger and my mother doted on me. Every childish whim was mine and I wandered about where I could. My father figure was the teacher that I met. He quickly taught me right from wrong. He told me that helping others was the fastest way to make friends and some might become true friends. I looked at the sky, the sun setting. The stars were coming out, sparkling like diamonds.

I had been born on a night where Valacirca was the brightest constellation in the sky. My earliest memory was a warm glow full of light. My memories of home made me realize that I had been gone for three days now, much longer than what a simple delivery to Oatbarteon. My mother would be worried. It was my first time traveling alone and all this happened. I fell asleep to dream of home and hearth.

* * *

**"If darkness surrounds you, look for the light." **

**"Sarto" means "loyal companion" in Quenya.**

**Reviews keep the adventure going forward!**


	5. The Bounds of the North

_**All Disclaimers apply.**_

I awoke with a sore back. A great way to start the day. I began to stretch to work out the soreness. Even a bedroll didn't protect you from the hardness of the ground. The sun was rising, coloring the sky pink and gold. I had used somebody's tent, so I looked around for someone to trade. A lot more people were around, including the old man. He sat before the ashes of the fire and made a grunt when he saw that I was awake. He opened his hand, asking for money. I placed about one gold piece in his hand and he stared at it.

He smiled, showing yellowing teeth. He shook my hand vigorously. Pointing at his mouth, he made the hand gesture for stop. The man was mute. I spoke to him. "Is that your tent?" He shook his head and rubbed his fingers together, then made a angle with his arms. Apparently, he was running a lodging service of some kind. "Thank you for allowing me to stay." He smiled and shook his head saying it was no bother.

I found my horse in a makeshift stable. At least it had food and water. Wind would certainly make it cold in there. I saddled my horse and galloped back towards Bree. I would take the Greenway north once there, maybe grab lunch. The sun was behind me as I galloped across the Lone Lands. Over hills and past the ruins of ancient Arnor. I rode through the thin border of trees to Bree. Staddle and it's collection of hobbit homes passed.

It was around early afternoon when I arrived in Bree. I didn't trust anybody here to sell decent gear. I stopped at the Prancing Pony for an ale, meat and bread. The Elvish waybread was kind of chewy, no doubt it would last long. The barman didn't notice me this time. Probably bad memory. After lunch, I began riding north along the Greenway, passing fields and farmland. The ruins of Old Greenway Fort served as a reminder that the North Downs were the barrier between Angmar and the Free Peoples. The sun was beginning to sink as I found a sign that read Northdowns, Trestlebridge. Looking further north, towards the horizon, I noticed smoke coming from between the hills. The town was under attack.

I stirred my horse to a fast gallop. Going between trees and hills, I saw that the south gate was open. I heard the clank of weapons and a harsh horn blow. Going into town with sword drawn and shield on my back to provide cover from behind, I saw what the horn was used for. It was the battle horn of the Orcs. It was the first time I had heard it. But not the last.

Fighting from horse back is wonderful, you become part of the mount below you and the strength of your blows is enough to hack off limbs. A mounted warrior is worth at least ten men in a battle and I was the only one mounted. The orcs had taken the trestle over Cirith Núr, the natural border between Breeland and the highlands of the North Downs. I rode towards the thick of the battle on the bridge. Men parted to allow me through and I began swinging my sword with the force of my charge behind it.

Down on the right, down on the left. Stabbing occasionally, my blade biting deep. The ground beneath my horses hooves became slippery with orc blood. An orc charged me, howling loudly. I gave him something to howl about as his ear left his head. I continued to fight, hewing orcs with each stroke. A cluster of spears came at my horse's side and I swept them off, the spearheads becoming blunt sticks. The ashes of the town were settling, but the orcs fought on. I saw men fall under the heaving mass of the fight.

It appeared that the Orcs had charged all at once and the tide had turned once I arrived. There were no archers or forces in reserve for the orcs. They had hoped to take it by force, with one huge writhing mass. They fought with reckless abandon, swinging at all within reach. They were undone and they knew it. As soon as it begun, it stoped. The dead and dying lying all around me.

It was small skirmish maybe twenty or thirty orcs. The symbol of Angmar was engraved on their armor. The people of Trestlebridge were outnumbered at least five to one until I showed up. A young woman with red hair tied back and wearing a leather dress of sorts approached. "You arrived just in time, stranger. The Orcs nearly overran us." I got down from my mount to see if Sarto had any wounds. Nothing. The saying was true. The best defense horse has is it's hooves.

"My name is Danagor, I was sent by Radagast the Brown. Have you seen an odd dwarf with glowing green eyes around town?" The woman shook my hand, stained by orc blood. "My name is Nellie, mayor of Trestlebridge and whatever strength we can spend is yours. I haven't seen a dwarf around here, must have used a different route than the span." I looked around, the smoke I had seen earlier was from smoldering buildings nearest the bridge and the town was fortified by stone walls.

"Can you tell me if a ranger is here?" Nellie blanched. "You don't look like a ranger, hero. The rangers have set up a camp called Esteldín, where the camp is I don't know. A ranger called Halbarad warned us of an orc attack and that we had to unite. I admit I was more concerned with holding the town then lending aid. If you see him, tell him that I will come to his council." She sniffed. "Goodness! She took a few steps away from me. "You certainly have been on the road a long time." I took in my appearance, more dust and grime than clean. "You can lodge in my house for the night, a warm meal, a proper bed and a bath." That sounded nice. "I couldn't impose." Nellie shook her head. "It's no bother, aid is the least I can give you."

I talked to Captain Trotter, the guard of the town about the Ranger Halbarad. He was somewhere in his forties by his red beard and graying hair. "Mincham is the only ranger I know where to find, he camps in the fields of Fornost. Watching over the ruins of the old city." It was a start at least. Nellie's house was heavily guarded, at least three guards patrolled around it.

Inside a fire blazed cheerfully in the kitchen, and she was drawing steaming water from the fire. She heaved it into another room with a metal basin in one corner. With the fire put out and the Orcs gone, she had time on her hands. A bow hung on the wall, along with a sword. It was larger than other lodges I had seen. Definitely a mayor's or ruling class lived here. "You really don't have to do this."

Nellie's reply was brief. "A mayor of the town looks after all who come through and offers rest to those who ask. Ever since the Orc attacks, fewer and fewer people come to town without weapons." I disarmed myself, keeping my sword where I could reach it. "Your armor could use mending, the dwarf armorsmith in town will repair it for you." Standing in padding, I could see what she meant. The chainmail was pierced in places from the wights I had fought before and my padding was more or less tattered along the edges. Some of the links had broken.

Nellie steered me towards the bath and closed the door. I took of my padding and breeches. My boots were fine, if a bit squashed. The warm water relaxed me. I had to admire the healing magic of the river maids. My toes moved normally my ribs whole. The mark on my side was long and looked like a bruise. I would carry it for the rest of my life since it was a wound made by a wight lords blade.

I scrubbed the dirt from the road and the orc blood off, the bath water turning blackish brown. I dressed myself in my breeches. I realized that I had no shirt. I opened the door and Nellie went a bit red. "I seem to be missing a tunic or is this a plan to get me shirtless?" Nellie began searching, flustered and emerged from the largest bedroom holding a blue tunic. It was a little big, but it fit. "That was my husband's day clothes. He died in battle against the Orcs." She took a breath. "Keep it and remember a young widow, who did not believe in hope for herself until you showed up from the south."

"I will wear this with honor." A knock sounded at the door and a gruff voice called out, "I have repaired the hero of Trestlebridge's armor and prepared new padding." Nellie opened the door and a dwarf walked in. "Hannar! I thought you were at Othrikar?" The dwarf was dressed in sturdy leather and chain. A two handed battleaxe was on his back. "I was Nellie, but we dwarfs occasionally need help from men."

He sat down at the table and Nellie called a guard and said a few words to him. The dwarfs eyes turned towards me. "So this is the hero of Trestlebridge and Breeland I have heard about? Hannar, at your service." He bowed, witch made him appear shorter. "Danagor, at yours." I replied. "The dwarfs at Othrikar are in a bit of trouble, Danagor. It appears that Dourhands of Skorgrím have kidnapped Dori saying that if we don't abandon our mines, they will kill him."

"If we free him from the Dourhands will you consider joining the ranger's council?" Nellie asked politely. The dwarf's reply was to the point. "A council of the Free Peoples? How could we give thought to a council with Dori gone? It was only with Dori's arrival, and the hoard of gems he brought, that hope began to creep back into our hearts. But Dori has been captured, the gems lost, and hope is stolen away. If those Rangers wish to have the help of the Dwarves of Othrikar, then he must be freed from the Dourhands' camp to the west of Othrikar. Once he is free, we will gladly attend this council."

_"Loyalty bought for loyalty, or gems of all things if you are a dwarf." _"I will free Dori from his imprisonment, to pay for my armor being repaired and cleaned." I stood up from the table. "You will need rest, Danagor. Some food and rest I promised you in my home and the setting sun is the best time to leave for a rescue. Maybe the dwarf will also like to stay?" Nellie stopped me from rising and the dwarf stroked his brown beard. "A meal would be fine and we did move ourselves from the mines to hide behind the hills." I had to admire the risk of that plan. In appearing to retreat as the Dourhand said, they evil dwarves would be unknowingly be walking into a trap. If they brought Dori, the action of saving one of Durin's Folk when all seemed lost, would be told through all the dwarf houses. Failure wasn't an option.

The guard from earlier brought ale, meat and bread. The simple things for an alliance between men and dwarves. Nellie also served a stew. The tense air faded after the meal and a nap sounded wonderful. I also asked Hannar about Skorgrím. At the name, he looked down at the ground and shuffled. He looked back up at me face stern, then when wasn't a dwarf's face like the rock they were said to be created of?

"You should hear this tale, Danagor. For the dwarves have indeed taken heart that a evil dwarf from the grave could be opposed. Skorgrím, may Mahal curse him, was a Dourhand dwarf from the Blue Mountains. When that realm was destroyed, his people became scattered and declined in number, but poverty and dishonor came to evil fruit. Within them grew greed and lust for power. When the Elves of Mithlond founded the refuge of Edhelion_, _Skorgrím sought to rob them of their relics and treasures, thinking they would give him immortality. He rallied the remnants of his people and laid siege to Edhelion. Worse, he had paid goblins and trolls to assist him...something of which no honorable Dwarf would do. His evil ways brought him to ruin, though Edhelion was also lost."

"A few weeks ago, a vile necromancer we assume, summoned a spirit which entered the preserved corpse of Skorgrím and raised it. I know this because his tomb was broken open from the inside in the Blue Mountains and the story has passed between dwarves. A few of them had even seen him walk the path to Angmar. The dark realm of Angmar used this creature to turn the Dourhands entirely to evil, leading them to believe that the creature was indeed Skorgrím reborn, to lead them to wealth and glory. Now the Dourhands serve Angmar, under the rule of the creature they know as Skorgrím." The fire crackled in the silence. Hannar took a long drink of ale.

The table was cleared. I napped in a spare bed, awakening when Nellie shook me awake. The sun outside was setting. I dressed in my armor. Hannar was waiting outside, sharpening his axe. I saddled my horse for the journey ahead. Nellie bid me farewell. The ride north along the Greenway was even more dangerous. In Nan Wathren, I spotted the glow of Orc fires.

Turning east, instead of going into the fields of Fornost, I began going over high hills covered with trees, past burned farms and ruins. Through the forest of Annúndir and over the steam, I entered the plains and hillocks of Kingsfell. Farther east, lay the mountains. The mountains of the Kingsfell turned into the Weather Hills further south. Hannar turned north and I saw fires in the high hills of Nan Amlug. Below a high cliff face was a dwarf camp. Above, lay the dwarf mining outpost of Othrikar. The sun had given way to night. The fires burned low at the dwarf camp.

The tension in the air was thick. We dismounted and a silent gathering of dwarves with axes and maces gathered. Hannar pointed to the road that wound up the road to Othrikar. "Nori is likely being held somewhere inside. They would want to keep him locked up and what better than a mine, watched on all sides? All you have to do is find an entrance and you will come across him. As soon as Nori is out of danger, use this on the eastern hills. He gave me a gem that reflected moonlight like a mirror. Then we'll take this place by surprise." A thought occurred to Hannar." By the way, Nori is often in trouble with the authorities, so you should mention something about Baggins slipping the Arkenstone or Nori's theft of gold that was actually false gold. The replacement was the real thing." Hannar chuckled to himself.

I began walking up the hill. The Dourhands had not yet fully encamped on the hill. From the ruckus of things falling over, they were trying to find stragglers. I hugged the walls and low ditches between the hills. I had only to go around in a complete circle, before finding myself clinging to the rocks over the dwarf camp. Using my arms and legs to find footholds, I began crossing over, right beneath the walls of the outpost. I slipped sometimes, dangling by my hands from the cliff face, winds buffeting me this way and that.

I rolled to the top of the eastern face to find mine doors scattered across the hillside. I opened the closest one with a squeak that made me wince. A light was getting closer. I threw a loose stone and it clattered against the wall. The light turned toward the wall and a dwarf walked foreword. I closed the wooden dwarf door behind me. Inside was lit by hanging lanterns. Cobble held up the roof and I had to stoop to keep my head from hitting the roof. I heard dwarf feet patter along the stones. I stopped and drew my bow and arrow.

A dwarf rounded the corner and his hands went up in the air. He had three beards tied into one on his face and the hair on his head was pointed at odd angles. The shifty look in his eyes didn't make me trust him one bit. "Your not a Dourhand." The dwarf stated the obvious. "If you find gold illegally, what happens to the fool that trades the fake for the real?" His face brightened. "The fool dwarf in question gets sent to do work in the mines, making supports for the roof. I learned my lesson when I hit the gold I borrowed by hitting it with a hammer. You can imagine my shock when it shattered in my face." I relaxed my bow string but did not put it away.

"Nori, at your service. Now if you don't mind point that somewhere else, like behind you." I turned just in time to see a Dourhand open the door. My arrow went into the dwarf's neck, silencing him. "Now lets get out of here, my fellows will get the gems back quick enough." Going back outside, Nori took a breath. "Outside air, nothing like it after being trapped in a mine for three days." We went east a ways, and I shone the gem towards the dwarf camp, the light glimmering from the moon. The entire camp emptied quietly and quickly.

As soon as the dwarfs approached the gate, the battle cry sounded. "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" The dwarves charged through the gates swinging their axes and hammers. Nori walked over to a minecart and grinned. "Lets give them something to think twice about assaulting Durin's Folk!" We pushed the minecart over the racks and down the hill, sening it directly down the flank of the Dourhands. It ran over a few of them, and carried some down the hillside where it flew off the bend and flipped over numerous times before settling.

The gap left by the runaway minecart quickly was filled by the dwarves and the Dourhands retreated down the hill opposite. Running back to their camps with heavy losses. We pushed a few loose boulders down the hillside for good measure, squashing a few stragglers. "AND STAY OUT!" Hannar yelled. His arms speckled with blood. The dwarves from the camp below only had a few scratches, apparently the Dourhands had no idea that a dwarf camp was right below their cliffs.

The celebration began right then and there, with axes waving and food flying. That night I learned to duck under or behind something to avoid being hit by the catapulted food. The dwarves merely put the bodies of the dead Dourhands out of the way or danced over them singing a drinking song.

"There is an inn,

a merry old inn,

Beneath an old gray hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown,

That the Man in the Moon himself came down,

one night to drink his fill."

"The ostler has a tipsy cat

that plays a five stringed fiddle;

And up and down he saws his bow,

Now squeaking high and purring low,

now sawing in the middle."

"So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,

a jig that would wake the dead.

He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,

While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon;

it's after three! he said."

Nori was dancing on a raised platform like it was a stage, while a forge burned behind him. As the song concluded, cheers came up from the dwarves along with loud belches. I only remember bits and pieces of that night, having drank so much dwarf ale and ate so much that I awoke in the morning with a pounding headache. Light broke through a window and I groaned. I guess I deserved to know better than to celebrate with dwarves after a battle. I had slept in my gear, my weapons and shield to one side. I leaned over the side of the bed and was sick.

I heard a dwarf chuckling. Hannar was red in the face and bleary eyed, but dwarf's can take a lot of alchol before fainting. There was lot of that last night. I got up and the room spun. Hannar handed me a jug of water. I was sick again and drank more of the water, getting the ale out of my system. "You certainly know how to drink, friend. You finished three or four pints of our finest ale." I groaned. "If someone says ale again, I'll be sick again." I began walking going back and forth with my steps. I stumbled and caught myself. I kept walking and drinking water, until everything stopped swaying.

"What time is it?" I asked. "Morning, you passed out in one of our halls. If you ride south, following the road, you will find a elf refuge that was recently attacked by stone trolls." That got my interest. Besides seeing the lady Galadriel in a vision, I had only heard of the elves in stories. The passing elves going to the Gray Havens lulled me to sleep in Evendim. "Before you leave, Dori recommended that we should go to this council and I agree with him. Esteldin is hidden by a range of mountains on either side, forming a way into the valley before the high cliffs that separate Angmar from the North Downs." He shook my hand. "You have done us a great service by rescuing Dori from the Dourhands. May your path never falter."

I bid farewell to the dwarves of Othrikar, one of their weaponsmiths gave me twin silver dwarf made daggers. The edges were honed to a fine edge that would never lose it's sharpness being dwarf made. A gold leaf pattern lay on the flat of the blades. They were about six inches long, prefect for finding weak spots in armor. Riding south, the hills gave way to the plains, a forest on my left, reaching up high among the foothills.

Going down a hillside, I saw an elf town made on top of a series of ponds like a lilypad. The only building standing was a tower framed by a stone horseshoe of a wall. Every one of the elves was armed with bow and daggers. The air made my spirits plunge. Grief hung in the air. A ring of elves suddenly sprung up around me, a ring of spears. One of the elves gave an order in Quenya and the spears disappeared and a elf dressed in bright scale mail removed his helmet. "What is your business in Lin Giliath?" He was an elf lord, by how old his eyes were. A sense of timelessness hung about him.

"Radagast the Brown sent me on a mission to gather a council of the Free Peoples of the North Downs at Esteldin to hold off the dwarf Skorgrím." He regarded me with interest. "A Council of Elves, Men and Dwarves? A sight not seen in a very long time." The elf made a sign with his hands and the warriors went back to watching the road, their cloaks blending in with the forest. "I wish I could extend to you a warmer welcome, but these are dark times for the Elves. The Shadow of the Enemy has grown long, longer than perhaps any had thought, and the Elves of Lin Giliath have paid the price for our complacency." I nocited that some of the trees were bent down or uprooted. Orc tracks were in the mud.

"I can't leave my post to join this Council, worthy it may be. The glade has recently come under attack by Orcs and stone trolls from Nan Wathren." To the southeast, a path led up to the hills and the orc fires seemed close. "Our scouts tell me that the Orcs in Nan Wathren are planning to move against us soon. An Uruk of Angmar camps in the deepest parts of Nan Wathren. Perhaps if this Uruk were slain, Lin Giliath would be protected enough for me to come to your Council. It is a heavy burden, but I would task you with this, if you remain of stout heart." The elf gazed at with his old eyes. "Would you like this Orc's head on a platter of silver or gold?" The elf almost smiled at that, crude as the joke was. I had to do something to lessen the tension around here.

He gave me a shining stone reflecting light like a gem. "This gem is an elf stone, used to inspire greatness in others." I did feel strangely light on my feet. "May the Vala wacth over you." Going towards the orc camp was easy, the pass was lightly watched. The orc camps were crude skin tents, surrounded by gates that looked like they could fall over by the slightest touch. The Uruk was easy to spot since he was at least a foot taller than the orcs around him.

I went on the attack, slashing and whirling. The cries of the orcs were loud and harsh. I fought my way inside often taking out two or three orcs at a time. I tipped over a wood gate and it toppled over a tower of sorts, smashing a number of the beneath it. I blocked and parried, the ground becoming black with orc blood. The camp was bigger then I thought because other Orcs were now rushing in. I toppled a few more walls and spotted lamp oil. Smashing it against the fallen barricades and walls, fire began to spread across the path ahead. A raging fire cutting off support. Flames crackled smoke went up into the air.

One orc began carrying something towards me. One of it's ends was lit. A firebomb. I rolled out of the way as it exploded, the air sucked away by the sudden heat. Apparently, the Orcs were hoping to use that against the glade. The Uruk made his way towards me, clad in heavy armor. I got out my daggers and began stabbing finding chinks in armor, throwing one into the Uruk's neck. As he got close enough, I swept off his head with my sword. Dagger in one hand sword in the other, I sheathed the one I was using. Recovering the other, I raked it across an orc's arm in the process. Going back was easier than going forward, my movements quick and precise because of the elf stone.

I had numerous cuts and burns on my skin from the fire. I only noticed them after the battle fury wore off. Trudging back down the hill, I winced as my burns and cuts became painful. Orc weapons had a way of being worse than what they were and I stumbled in some kind of daze. An elf warrior saw me approach and he took my arm. "Orc poison, it slows you down after the battle. Infected blades will finish you off while the foul orc is in it's grave." My vision swam.

"Who is your lord?" I asked. The elf answered. "Lord Gildor from the House of Finrod, one of Lord Elrond's captains." THe elves here had come from Rivendell, a four to five day journey. The elf brought me back to the glade, and everything seemed out of focus. I was put against a wall and a healer began tending to me. Bandages were again put on my cuts a mixture of herbs and alchol to keep infection from spreading. A potion was forced down my mouth and it tasted horrid. I swallowed, my throat cramping. Words were spoken but I couldn't make sense of them as I was drifting off.

When I awoke, the sun was high in the sky. My stomach grumbled. The elf healer came to my side with bread and greens. Finishing, the elf took the plate away and I stood. My bandages were expertly applied. "Thank you, friend." The healer went over to another of the wounded, I was inside a camp. Secure inside the horseshoe, elves were saddling gear and supplies. A number of guards were preparing to move. Gildor approached with that floaty walk elves had.

"I could hear the cries of the orcs from here! With the Uruk slain, I can spare a few warriors and my time to join the council at Esteldin." Gildor half smiled. " Forgive me, but I seem to be at a loss for your name and you probably know mine." I greeted him, "Danagor." "Your heroic deeds will be sung of someday, friend. Bring word to Halbarad that we will attend." I saddled my horse and Gildor made a gesture of farewell.

Riding north, I looked for the marks of a path or some side of habitation. The stone walls behind a grove of trees gave it away, the marks of travel were subtle but not yet vanished. Approaching, an arrow landed in front of my horse. I spoke to the trees. "I bear a message for Halbarad that the men of Trestlebridge, the Dwarves of Othrikar, and the Elves of Lin Giliath will attend his council at Esteldin." A gathering of rangers surrounded me. Without word they escorted me to ruined gates. Inside was a mostly ruined fortress, but still defendable, by its walls. The rift in the mountains east of the plains hid it from view from the north.

Halbarad greeted me in the central courtyard. "When I heard of your deeds to gather a council, I could scarce believe it. Mincham's message that Fornost had fallen also arrived with the allies, but worrisome news also comes with heartening news." Nellie and Nori were sitting in front of a fire. They had a number of Rangers, dwarves and people from Trestlebridge around. I dismounted. "The elves of Lin Giliath are also attending." Halbarad grinned, "You are welcome here at any time, Danagor. Aragorn would usually be the one to call a council, but I must guard these lands in his stead. You must tell my chieftain the North Downs are well in hand now, it will bring peace to him on his long journey." A group of elves rode in, armor gleaming. Gildor approached and he seemed slightly hurried.

"I hope we can push the spawn of Angmar back, with greater success than the last time." Gildor spoke confidently. Halbarad put away his doubts of leadership. "Let us at least learn from the past as to not repeat it." At the side of the fire, a friendship between the peoples North Downs was forged, one that would be a wall of steel sheltering the Shire, Bree, and Evendim. I rode off to Rivendell, with Gildor's instruction to follow the waters of the Bruinen. It would be a long ride, but I had already decided to travel wherever this path took me.

* * *

**"Helping others is the truest way to make friends."**

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	6. Rivendell Under Threat

**_All standard disclaimers apply_**

Passing over the Last Bridge, the forests and gorges of the Trollshaws were imposing. Two days on the road had passed. It would take at least another two to cross the Trollshaws. The path was muddy and worn, the signs of a desperate flight. Nine other hoof prints were on the trail, strangely deeper than the others. As the sun went down, I judged that I was somewhere in the Bruinen Gorges. Further east was the High Moors, a slope going up to meet the feet of the Misty Mountains. I saw no valley in the foothills and mountains ahead of me. Gildor's tip was that Rivendell lay somewhere in the northeast. If I kept the waters of the Bruinen in mind with my path, I would find Imladris.

I camped near the ford of the Brunien able to see if anybody was coming down the slopes. A small bite of elvish waybread and a tent that Nellie had given me served better than the ground. I awoke to a truly bad smell, it worse than rotten eggs. "I tell yah, I can smell man flesh!" A voice said. "Ah shut up, Zach. You can't smell anything, much less man flesh." I sat upright, clad in my armor that I was learning to sleep in. "Quiet! All your yapping will bring a host of elves down on us."

I warily poked my head out of the tent. Something big was moving around. Creeping out along the ground, I saw who had awoken me. More like _what_. Trolls, three of them. Each were the color of stone. They were armed with clubs and were misshapen with muscles here and there. "We are to search the waters for the master and we will be well rewarded if we find it." That made me freeze. So close to the Hidden Vale, Trolls were searching for something. I hoped they didn't find it.

The forest was quiet, too quiet. No birds or squirrels. Something was about to happen and I was about to be caught in it. The trolls hadn't noticed me but they were standing right in the steam. I couldn't get across without them seeing. I krept around and put a rock in my hand. With their backs turned to one another and watching the ford, they were not looking west back the way they came. I smiled to myself. This would be amusing.

I threw a rock and it pattered across one of the trolls heads. "Ow! Wactha do that for Ern?" "I didn't do anything, stupid!" The trolls began arguing and scuffling over who did it. The Elder Troll, I assumed, shoved them apart. "I know elf trickery when I hear it and the brothers often are the cause of it." _"Brothers?" _The two trolls muttered and they looked around for the bright elves. Trolls were really stupid. An elf would never be found if he didn't want to be caught.

An arrow zipped from the trees and landed in one of the trolls eyes. Three or four elves came out of the brush from the east bank. Two of them had dark hair and were impossible to tell apart. I could barely keep track of their movements, quick and agile, they leapt and rolled, giving wounds to the trolls. Dodging with grace, it almost like a bizzare dance. Their blades moved hypnotically. It was the first time I had seen the Firstborn in combat and I would never forget it. The Elder Troll was smarter than he looked because he threw rocks and punched with short swings. One of the trolls fell and they screamed together with a roar that rebounded off the high cliffs and hills.

The Trolls leapt at the twins and they dodged. One wasn't so lucky, he was trapped in the Elder Trolls grasp. Lay down your arms! Or I turn this whelp of Elrond into paste!" The elves paused, uncertain. The other brother dropped his sword, the others likewise. It took a few moments for my awed state to give way to reality. I had to do something. "No not paste. He'll taste like water, no meat left." I just began talking. I began climbing up a tree. "Who's tha?" A troll said, looking around. "Only the greatest elf cook, as I call myself. Spare them, their best fresh! Keep them away from the light too, elf filth tastes better when hope leaves them." I had no idea what I was saying, but the Trolls seemed to buy it. I was now positioned straight above the Troll holding the elf, who was gasping for air.

"He's right Ed! They taste better whole." The elder turned to the younger. "What do you know about cooking? You eat what I give ya." The Troll turned away and I struck, leaping silently from the tree. My weight carried my sword directly down into the Elder Trolls head. I leaned forward and he fell face forward into the mud. I rolled, letting the force of the fall carry me towards the other Troll. When the other Troll turned in shock, I came up with my sword and rammed it up to the hilt in his gut. He tried to grab me, but I went under his grasp. I took the sword out and sliced the Trolls neck as he doubled over in pain. I side stepped as the Troll fell.

The battle rush was addicting, I admit. Then I realized I took out two trolls with three sword swings. The other elves pried the dark haired elf loose from the Troll Elder's hand. "Well, brother I always knew you were the less agile one." All that came from the elf was a gasp, broken ribs by the sound of it. The dark haired elf turned towards me. "Thank you, mellon. It appears friends walk these woods still." He made the elven sign for greetings. "Elohir, Son of Elrond." The greeting was less stiff than what I thought from the son of a High Elf. "Danagor." The others were putting his brother on a litter.

"We can't move him to our camp, Elrohir. We are going to have to spend the night here for Elladan to heal." One of the elf warriors spoke up from the group. "I have a camp looking over the ford." I offered. Elrohir nodded. He spoke a few words and they followed me back to my camp. "Light would be unwise to use here, camping by yourself less so." The forest seemed peaceful to me, but then again Trolls had almost discovered my camp. The elves began healing Elladan, using a splint over the chest to the middle of the spine. The elf warrior stood. "His lung isn't punctured, but he will be on bed rest for six to eight weeks." Elohir breathed a bit easier.

With nothing to do except wait for dawn, I spoke with Elrohir. He seemed on edge by something, not just his wounded brother. "A shadow has fallen on the Trollshaws. A few days ago, the waters of the Brunien washed away the Nine. We have found eight of their steeds but one is unaccounted for. You have no doubt heard what the Trolls were searching for, as we did." "The Ring." I answered. As I said it, I knew it was true. He nodded. "Our father sent us to track this Nazgul and if possible find his out his designs." A deep chill settled over me.

"We had just come back from the caves of the Trollshaws when we heard the Trolls were searching the river. We have found nothing so far, the Nazgul has not stopped anywhere." Just then I heard a loud snap and the creaking of branches. We formed a ring around Elohir's brother. The air turned earthy. "What now?" Elohir made the gesture to spread out and we did. We kept each other in sight and the noise of the creaking branches got closer.

It almost sounded like steps being taken. I saw a tree that looked like a man crouched on four legs like a dog. A wood troll. These were the more trollish cousins of the peaceful Treeherders in a way. It turned towards me with malice. It's eyes were a bright green but darkness lingered in them. I clapped, making a noise at least that something was wrong. Vines grew from the tree and I slashed them off as they came at me. I needed fire. I slashed and hacked, but my sword wasn't doing much good. It swatted me with one of it's arms and I felt my feet leave the ground. I rolled and ran towards the camp.

I heard shouts and the whizz of arrows. Whatever they hoped to do against it was beyond me. I heard wood being hacked off, but only an axe would make an impression against a large foe that could regrow itself. I found some oil, hopefully it would do the trick. I went back to the battle. The elves were having a tough time of it. Arrows bounced off the bark, and when a vine got slashed, it simply regrew. I doused the head of one of my arrows and threw the jar of oil at the woodtroll. Oil dripped down the tree and the bark soaked it up. "To me!" I shouted. The elves leapt between me and the woodtroll, peppering it with arrows. Some shot two or three at a time. Striking a flint, the arrow sparked alight.

At the sight of fire, the troll roared deeply. It sounded like a wolf cry mixed with gravel. It charged vines writhing. I put it to my bow and shot, the elves parting to not get trampled. The _whoosh _of flame sucked the air out of lungs and I rolled over and over, convinced I was on fire. Standing up shaking slightly, I saw the wood troll was now like a warm fire. It had fallen over and the fire blazed high, a torch against the night. "Well done, Danagor!" Elohir came to me, not a speck of dirt on him. "The darkness has parted a little before the flame, but I am troubled that a woodtroll appeared where their should be none."

I gazed at the burning tree. "What is a woodtroll doing so far west of the Mirkwood?" Elrohir frowned slightly. "It appears that a few more guests came with our eastern kin. This forest is no longer safe, we must make for Imladris." I broke camp and saddled my horse. The rosy fingers of dawn were showing over the Misty Mountains. Elladan was carried on a litter by two elves and we slowly made our way over the ford and up the High Moors. The road wind up a series of high hills, stacked on top of one another in brown and green. Reaching the top, the elves carrying Elrond's son weren't even tired.

I yawned slightly. It had been a restless night. The High Moors evened out slightly, becoming less steep. We went past boulders and high cliffs. The road turned to the North suddenly and I saw a pass in the Moors, the path could easily allow five or four horses to pass abreast with space to spare. Mists had obscured the valley below slightly, giving it a gray feel. Trees were dotted here and there along the path. As the mists started to clear, I saw Rivendell laid out before us.

The House of Elrond was the most welcoming thing I had seen. Being there in the flesh, not within the pages of a book was...Incredible. I took a breath above the valley. "It is a welcome sight after such a journey." Elrohir said to my right. "Truly." I replied. A number of falls fed the Brunien and the city itself was built into the cliffs almost. The House of Elrond sat proudly on a hill, forefront of all. The bridge arched over the waters. The fine whites, slivers and golds glowed beautifully in the colors of the rising sun. The falling leaves of autumn gave it a feeling of going to rest, preparing for the winter.

At the sight of Elladan, an elf raced to the House of Elrond. The doors opened and Lord Elrond stepped out. Clad in white and silver robes, I saw the impression of worry on his grave face. His hair was long and black, even darker than the brothers. The litter was carried past him and I saw him briefly flinch. Elrohir greeted his father. The greeting was formal and a little stiff. I dismounted from my horse. "Father, this is Danagor. He saved our scouting party from becoming a meal for two trolls and fought off a woodtroll at the ford." Elrond greeted me.

"Greetings, Danagor. The road that took you here has been perilous and danger is all too common these days. In such times, friends from distant lands are needed." He turned to two other elves, speaking in Sinadarin. "Tina san han min nathal na sinda." The elves were standing by, like guards and certainly armed for it. "You are welcome to rest, just not for very long or very deep. We have need of adventuring folk, for evil is beyond the Vale." That was my first meeting with Lord Elrond. An elf stabled my horse, while I brought my gear up to the guest rooms following the other guard. The elf looked me over with a certain wariness. Strider was sitting on a bench in front of the guest rooms. "Hail, Danagor. It seems that fate has guided you here as much as it leads me."

"It's good seeing you again, Strider. The North Downs are held by Halbarad, who has united the folk to stand against Angmar." Strider relaxed. Without his hood, he seemed more at ease. "With Angmar watched, that gives a great deal of peace. May your rest here be easeful." I went inside the guest rooms, and passed a few hobbits. There was something in the air around here, besides the feeling of peace. It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck stand slightly. Probably nothing. The guard showed me to my room, the balcony overlooked the main bridge, the rivers and falls. The house of Elrond stood proudly in the light of the morning sun.

The missing Nazgul weighed on my mind. As did the sight of the burning treetroll. Maybe someone could help me solve this dilemma. With no scouting party searching for the Nazgul, he was free to act. I rested, but it was fitful. I couldn't rest. Maybe a bit of practice would help. I walked over past the stables were I saw a small camp set up. It was a mix of elves and men. A few were sparring with real blades. The most watched part was the archery range. A few elf maids were watching with interest.

A blond elf dressed in a green tunic and leather stood. Each of his shots hit dead center or close to it. The elf archer seemed to focus on something far away and took aim. I heard the sound of an arrow hitting it's mark and an elf ran down the range. I had a hard time seeing where he ran, but I could still see a target. Barely.

"Dead center. Once again, the Prince of Mirkwood shows his skill." The elf called out with respect and also a certian expectancy. Apparently, the archer was renowned for his accuracy. Even among the elves. He turned his striking blue eyes to me. "Ah, Danagor. The wandering hero. I had a feeling we would meet." The crowd began dispersing. "You knew I was coming?" Apparently elven ears were just as keen as their eyes.

"Of course, after the story of the woodtroll, I had a feeling you would be asking me about them. When Dul Guldur was first active, a dark power corrupted the trees of Mirkwood, turning them into the shapes of men but also with a lesser power of the Treeherders. Once these were wandering, individual creatures, loath to live together and unite. At Dol Guldur, however, something caused them to join together. A king was raised among them, and he unified the Wood-trolls into a terrible force. My father sent many warriors to defeat the Wood-trolls and it was done."

"There must be a lair for them nearby if they are joined together in force." I replied. "I grow tired of using my bow at still targets and I can lead you to their lair, we must be watchful. I know of the Nazgûl that Master Elrond has lost, and I fear that it may have lent some of its strength to these creatures for them to be so bold." We saddled our horses, and made our way out of Rivendell. My shield, sword, and daggers were with me. Going down the High Moors was more difficult then going up. Loose rocks came from the path, and the sun was high in the sky when I took a bite of the Lembas I had brought with me. I broke off a piece. "Hungry?" I asked Legolas. He took a bite and grimaced slightly. "How long has this been in your pack?" "About a week or more, why?" I replied. "It has a certain taste."

"Goldberry gave it to me, I don't think Lembas can go bad." Legolas said no more. Maybe I had offended him. As we approached the site of the battle, Legolas gazed at the remains of the Woodtroll. "It is sad that a tree must pass from the world, but it's decay will bring new life." We unsaddled and began walking north. The trail of the wood troll was almost unnoticeable to my eyes. We walked farther north, entering Nan Torneath when the sun was setting. It was night when Legolas stopped. 'These tracks are unusual, Danagor. These are the prints of wood-trolls, but they are too large for their kind."

Legolas brought out his bow. "Stay alert, a Nazgul is around these parts." We ventured deeper into the grove of trees. I heard rustling and three fen crawlers came from below the ground. They were like humps of moss covering the shell and stood on four legs. Two forelegs ended in a point. Legolas nocked three arrows and they fell over with arrows inside them. "That is not the end of the creatures, friend. More are upon us!" Some came running from the hill, and I slashed and hacked with my sword severing their thick vine legs like weeds. Legolas sprinted up a tree and began firing arrows in rapid succession, while I took care of the ones closest. The ground became thick with fallen fen crawlers. The air grew sickly with dampness and mold.

Legolas sprinted over the tree branches and bounced off the bark of a tree. It turned and caught him by the leg, holding him upside down. I rushed forward to help, but the elf didn't need it. He threw his daggers into it's kneecaps and the woodtroll dropped him. He rolled backwards, taking the daggers out and slashing them along the limbs. The woodtroll fell over now in five separate parts. The area grew still, but it still had a sickly feeling. "There is something still within the Gladdalf, for the evil that corrupts this place did not vanish with the of the wood-troll that opposed us."

We continued our trek, coming to the center of the Gladdalf. Legolas stiffened and paled. A Nazgul was speaking to a woodtroll that made the others look tiny. It was as large as the trolls that had captured Elrond's sons. "Never forget your new master. Pain comes to those who do." The woodtroll spoke in earthy tones. "Taushakh will remember." The Nazgul turned his hood. "Then prove your loyalty to the Great Eye. Deal with these foes, Tashakh." He disappeared into the trees, becoming part of their shadows. "I leave them to you."

The woodtroll attacked, vines shooting out like arrows. I raised my shield, and the vines fell at my feet. Legolas dodged and vaulted over, knives flashing. I ran behind him, slashing at the vines trying to entangle us. Legolas, leapt on it's arm and got one of his daggers stuck in it. He was surprised as he landed, finding himself with one dagger. I pried it out with a thrust and caught it before it hit the ground, rolling underneath the woodtroll. The Troll swung his arm low to the ground and I backed up. His missed, barely. Scratches now covered my legs.

An arrow sprouted from one of his eyes, and the woodtroll ripped it out. Something green, like the oil from a crushed leaf trickled from it's eye. Legolas was now it's chief focus and he began dodging with grace. I waited for an opening in the midst of flailing branches. As his arm swept around, I noticed that his chest grew cracks in the bark. I couldn't get close with his arms swinging around trying to swat Legolas away like a pesky fly. I was occupied with the vines, but I called out. "Legolas!" I threw one of his daggers by the blade and Legolas caught it expertly in midair.

He leapt from the tree, towards the woodtroll's head. His vines and arms reached up, ignoring me. I rolled and stabbed upward my blade going deep into the woodtrolls chest. His remaining eye bugged out then dimmed. I drew out my sword and got of the way as the troll toppled like a fallen oak. I took a few breaths.

"Well done! Thanks to your aid, Taushakh's service to Mordor was short indeed!" I wasn't at ease yet. "Where is the Nazgul?" Legolas shifted uneasily. "The Nazgûl vanished from my view, but he did not leave. Legend tells that one of the Ringwraiths was an Easterling king who had great skill in tracking and stealth...only the dread that lay heavily upon my heart told of his presence. That is gone, but the memory is black."

"With Taushakh defeated there is no longer a leader of the woodtrolls, for the Nazgûl had given him some power with which to rally them. In great numbers, they might have threatened Imladris itself. Individually, they are much less of a threat." The fight was a draw then. At least his plan was stopped before it could begin.

"Hopefully we can make it back to Rivendell before the night is gone, sleeping on a real bed is a blessing." Legolas actually smiled slightly. He whistled and our horse came from between the trees. "Lord Elrond should be told of what happened here, for the Nazgul is still free to threaten Rivendell." Legolas vaulted onto his horse. The ride back was shorter. We arrived just as the sun was rising. I yawned. All of this was tiring.

I bid Legolas good night and went to my chambers. I undressed and laid down on the soft mattress. I fell asleep, to awake in the afternoon. I dressed in my blue tunic and leather trousers. The scratches on my legs weren't that bad actually. Just had to keep them clean. After eating some greens and fruit at lunch, I began walking around Imladris. The central hall of the Last Homely House was bathed in light. A statue of Varda I assumed, watched over the courtyard. Four trees grew in an inside garden, tapestries hung from above. The stairs were more like slopes, the banisters like sliver and gold vines.

An old hobbit came from one of the guest rooms. His hair was white and curled. He muttered to himself looking quite lost, as I was. I approached. "Excuse me, did you need something?" He looked up at me. "Oh, just going down memory lane as old people often do. You look lost, friend." His greeting cheered me. "I am looking for Lord Elrond, have you seen him?" The old hobbit's eyes sparked. "He is in the Library, just where I was headed. Why would you..?" "Oh, you must be Danagor. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End." He shook my hand. "You probably have a few tales of your own to tell and I am curious to hear them." He was anxious to hear my story. "Maybe someday."Bilbo walked with the help of a walking stick. I had just met the hobbit who had adventured with Thorin Oakenshield. It was surprise that he had lived at least eighty years after his adventure. He looked older than some of the elder's back in Evendim.

Lord Elrond sat in an armchair, his blue and white robes flowing. The library was expansive, the largest collection of books I had seen. Elrond gazed into the flames of a fire, as if trying to see the future reflected. "Elrond, this is Danagor. He has something to say." The hobbit acted like they were old friends. Elrond turned towards me. The words came tumbling out. "The Nazgul has disappeared from the Trollshaws, he was trying to recruit Woodtrolls to his cause, but Legolas of the Woodland Realm and myself stopped his plans. The night during witch your son was wounded, Trolls were searching for the One Ring in the waters of the Brunien."

Elrond sat straighter than normal. "Keep your eyes on the Nazgul, Danagor. You have guessed aright what the enemy seeks. To the north and east of Rivendell, there are goblins and worse that he might bend to his will and use against us. Continue your pursuit with the aid of Glóin, who has camped on the path that leads from Imladris to the Misty Mountains." The Elf lord gazed into the flames, gazing as if trying to uncover some knowledge from them.

I took my leave. Bilbo behind me. "Elrond isn't always like that you know, I got him to smile once." "_Now there is feat worth singing of." _"Farewell, Bilbo. May our next meeting be with stories to tell." I parted ways with the old adventurer. I gathered my gear and bought new supplies from the market. I would need furs to keep warm in the mountains. My Lembas supply would last at least three or four months more. I thought to clean my armor, then paused. Dwarf make or elven make armor doesn't need cleaning. Rust never formed on the links as it did on the works of men.

I began walking my horse up the mountain path, the Hidden Valley soon fading from view. The sun was setting, when the pass became covered with snow. I entered the western source of the Bruinen. The pines were scattered here and there along the mountainside. Further up, I came to the treelines and saw a fire burning in one of the dwarven forts on the mountain slopes. They were low and solidly built from the mountain stones. I rode towards the camp nearest to the path. I was let into the camp with no trouble. A gathering of dwarven warriors was sharpening axes as if preparing for war.

I stabled my horse and continued, going deeper into the fortress. At the highest platform, a table was laid out with maps and a stone key rested on one of the maps. The maps were old and fading in spots. "Danagor, friend of Durin's Folk." The voice was deep. A heavily bearded dwarf with silver ties in his hair approached. The other dwarf next to him was his son, no doubt except with a brown red mix for a beard. Their armor was leather and heavy chain. They both carried double bladed war axes, with a leather strapping for the grip. They looked ready to cleave Orcs.

"Glóin, at your service. This is my son Gimli." The other dwarf bowed. "I have been sent by Lord Elrond of Rivendell to track a Ringwraith that retreated from the Trollshaws." Glóin nodded. "I suspected as much, when I saw goblins and the Dourhands working together. Dain Ironfoot sent us to track down their last stronghold and the scouts found them soon enough. As the scout watched from a high ridge, two figures rode up to the fortress. One was a dwarf, the other a cloaked figure. At first he didn't know what he was seeing, but when all the Dourhands stopped what they were doing and cheered, he knew the dwarf could only be one person. Skorgrím!" He spat on the ground. "Now, with what you've told me, the other figure with him must have been the Ringwraith. It would seem our two tasks are but one."

"We have the plans of Gabilazan and the key required to get into the secret entrance that leads into the main courtyard." Gimli laughed. "This will be almost like the time when Burglar Bilbo snuck into Smaug's lair. At the time I was too young they said, but now my axe will claim glory!" Glóin sighed. "Yes and now my only son goes off into danger. I can still swing my axe and I bet a few rounds of good ale that I have more kills then you." Gimli grinned. "Prepare to pay for that round, father."

After the stiffness and formality of Rivendell, this was a breath of fresh air. "I will fight beside Durin's Folk for this battle." The dwarves grinned. "I have heard of your skill in battle and we are eager to see it!" Gimli blew a mustering horn and a crowd of battle ready dwarves gathered. "Sons of Durin, Longbeards! Danagor fights besides us this day! May the Dourhands quake at our coming!" The dwarves cheered and some waved their axes and swords in the air. We marched towards the slopes of the mountains, heading east then south along the mountain slopes. We marched up a valley to a narrow pass between the High Crag and the Giant Halls. A fortress with high walls and a strong gate encompassed the pass. Towers watched over the walls, silent and cold.

We entered through the secret entrance. I was with Gimli and his father. The door leading past the walls and into the inner courtyard was unwatched. The dwarves shouted at the top of their lungs. "Khazâd ai-mênu!" We took them completely by surprise. Fighting broke out all along the courtyard. Above the din, I heard Gimli shout. "Your doom has arrived, Dourhands!" I cut down Dourhand after Dourhand. Axes splintered, swords clashed and whirled.

A huge man, sixty feet in height walked into the courtyard. He wore heavy furs and brandished a club. "Giants!" Gimli yelled. The giant swept his club along a row of warriors and they went flying into the walls. A dozen throwing axes peppered his legs. The giant collapsed with a sound like thunder, shaking the entire pass. I ran up some stairs and stood on an empty parapet. I went into a tower and readied my bow. I shot an arrow and it went into his thigh. The giant collapsed again, creating the sound of rumbling. The dwarves went in and slashed with their axes. The roars of the giant were incredible. I readied another arrow.

My next shot went into the giants mouth. The fletching's were the only thing that showed. The giant threw his club and me and I ducked, the club soaring over me and taking the top of the tower off. I stood from the rubble, dazed but unhurt. The Dourhands were in retreat. A cry came up from the dwarves below. "Danagor! Danagor!" I shook off my daze and walked back down to the main courtyard. The doors opened and the Nazgul and Skorgrím walked out, standing above the force of dwarves.

"Who dares intrude upon these grounds?" The Nazgul was angry. His voice was sharper than the winds of snow and ice around us. The hood was turned towards me. If the Nazgul had eyes, they would be glaring at me with hate. "Thrice accursed fools! I shall tolerate your hounding of my steps no longer!" The Nazgul turned to the wight dwarf. "Skorgrím! Deal with these interlopers and then bring your men to Helegrod."

The dwarf bowed. "As you command." The Nazgul left and the heaviness in the air faded slightly. Skorgrím spoke to the dwarf in front of him. Gimli. "You have gained entry through some dishonorable means, Gimli, son of Glóin. You shame the Longbeards with your sneaking and crawling! Begone!" I loosed another arrow and it glanced off his armor. It got his attention at least. I walked up and drew my sword. "To battle, Sons of Durin!" The dwarves charged the regrouping Dourhands at the gates and Gimli made straight for Skorgrím.

Skorgrím did not go down easily. He had traded his hammer for double axes and he fought wildly. Sparks flew from shield and sword. Gimli swung his axe with all his strength. My shield withstood the dwarf wights slashes. Gimli took the right, I took the left. Another force of dwarves joined the battle below. Their sign was of Durin's Folk, an anvil below three stars, set on a field of blue. The Dourhands were caught between two forces now. Glóin had split his forces before the battle had even started.

The Dourhands fought on, surrounded. The end was near for the battle below, but not with Skorgrím. I had been distracted and the wight dwarf's axe rent my armor and drew blood. It wasn't deep, but it did make me weak. Skorgrím was arrogant and he focused more on me than Gimli. That was his undoing. Gimli's axe struck down the wight dwarf. A spirit came from the corpse. "This vessel has served our purposes well, but now its time is past. Now to my lord's final task!" The spirit disappeared in the wind.

My vision swam, my cut stung. I went down into the blackness. I awoke with a dwarf tending me. His hands were skilled. My skin was stitched together, bandages over my chest. "Don't you dare move, Danagor. I just finished with those stitches of yours an hour ago." That kept me still. Heavy fur blankets rested just above my stomach. "Did we win?" The dwarf snorted. "Of course we did. With their leader gone, the Dourhands just lost purpose to fight. They just ran into the mountains."

I relaxed slightly. "Gimli and Glóin?" Two voices answered at once. "Nothing besides a few wounds." They were missing a bit of their beards, their axes slightly duller from rending armor. The Dwarf healer answered strongly. "This one is not going to be fighting until his stitches degrade in a week's time." The dwarf turned and set a meal of stew and water on my bedside. "You are in for a hard slog, Danagor. At least two or three days in bed, until the skin grows less tender."

Glóin spoke from my bedside. "You fought well, Danagor, and we have put an end to Skorgrím's menace! I am troubled by the escape of the Nazgûl and the apparition that appeared upon Skorgrím's death, but there is nothing we can do about that right now. At least we have paid the Dourhands for their treachery!" At least that was something, Dwarves take oaths seriously. I could rest a bit easier now that the Dourhands were dealt with.

"You owe me a round of drinks, father." Gimli brought up his gamble with his dad. "Quite right." Glóin agreed. They walked out. I could hear the noises of celebration outside. I barely got any sleep with all the sounds of tumbling chairs, brawling and drinking. My bandages were changed daily. I got a few books to keep me occupied. I read tales of the elder days, when Elves still walked in number. Not going over the sea to the Undying Lands. At the end of the third day, I could walk around, the dwarf healer trailing behind me.

Night was incredible on the mountains. The stars were brighter than anything I had seen before. Sunrise was beautiful, the reds, golds and pinks blending together above the clouds. The clear mountain air was refreshing after so long indoors. My weapons were locked inside a trunk by the healer.

I talked to Glóin about Helegrod. The old dwarf paused before speaking. "Gimli told me of the apparition and we all heard the Nazgul's words of bringing men there. What he seeks in that Dwarf Hall is a mystery to me. Allow me to tell you the tale." We sat down beside a fire. Glóin took a deep drink of ale before starting. "Helegrod is the northern-most outpost of Khazad-dûm. Mithril was never found there, but a good many other stones and riches were. Those riches drew a dragon to Helegrod. Thorog, he was named. He slew all the dwarves and made his bed in Helegrod's treasury."

"Durin the Fifth, marshaled a company of dwarves to journey to Helegrod and slay the beast. Thorog was defeated, but Durin was slain by the dragon's dying breath. His axe, Mírdanant was lost. It was a gift from the Elves of Eregion, a symbol of the friendship between them. Dwarves sought to reclaim Helegrod in the years that followed, but death hung heavy over that place and they abandoned the halls and removed Helegrod's riches to Khazad-dûm."

"I do not know what the Rider might seek to gain by taking to Helegrod. Perhaps he simply wants to fortify it, but I would wager there is more to this deed than we can see. Perhaps by scouting the borders of Helegrod we can learn more of his plans. I have already sent my most skillful scouts up to the old fortress." Glóin stood and peered north. I could see nothing but mountains. "It seems the scouts have returned."

Two dwarves appeared on the slope, breathless and breathing hard. Their faces where ashen. Something had shocked them when they attempted to enter Helegrod. One of the Dwarves spoke. "Wights." The dwarf sat before the fire staring into it. The other silently pressed a sigil into Glóin's hands before going to the fire. Instead of greetings it was silence. Glóin stared at the sigil in his hands, a little black disc with the tongue of the black speech written on it. "This is surely the work of the Rider! The true meaning of this sigil is beyond me. Maybe it is time we ask for help from Master Elrond." I stood from my place besides the fire. "I will go, I am healed enough to ride."

Glóin chuckled as he gave me the sigil. "Better ask the healer first or he will come after you with his largest sewing needle." That gave me pause. Good thing I was unconscious during that part. The healer wasn't too hard to find. He stood near the entrance to the inner camp. No one can look stubborn like a dwarf. "I know what you're going to say. Just so long as you don't fight much, your wounds should be fine. You might be in fighting shape by the time you reach Rivendell." He handed me my weapons and shield. Sarto voiced his joy at being able to gallop free again. "It's good to see you too." I saddled my horse, carefully pulling myself up.

The dwarves bid me farewell, saying that once Helegrod was cleared, the Dwarves would visit Rivendell. That would ruffle a few feathers. My bandages were changed the daily, two days before Rivendell they stopped bleeding. When Rivendell was below me, my stitches were irritable. It was scratchy feeling, but I knew better. It was cool in the Hidden Valley, so I took off my fur wrappings except for the cloak. I stabled my horse and made straight for the library. Elrond sat in the same chair, in front of the same fire. It looked like he had never moved.

I began my report. "Lord Elrond, the Nazgul fled into the Misty Mountains and now lies somewhere in Helegrod. The Dourhands have been defeated, but we turned up a sigil from the wights guarding Helegrod." I gave him the sigil, Elrond turned it over after reading the runes. "You have returned and with evil tidings. This is the mark of a Gaunt-lord." I shivered at that, the memories of the Red Swamp were still vivid. "Perhaps you have seen one before? Sometimes Gaunt-lords use these sigils to summon the fell spirit that animates the wight." Elrond continued. "The sigil you have brought is a mark of Drugoth the Black, a powerful Gaunt-lord. As for what drew the Nazgûl and this Gaunt-lord to Helegrod, I fear I now know what they seek. Glóin told you of the fall of Helegrod, I expect?"

I nodded. "Then you know that Durin the Fifth, slew the dragon Thorog at the expense of his life and most of his company. When it became clear that Helegrod was a place of evil and their attempts to restore it futile, the dwarves removed the riches from the treasury and left the dragon's body to decay. However, I fear that the cold and ice of Orod Lostol may have preserved the body of the dragon far longer than any would have thought. Even after death and the passage of so many years, the body of Thorog would possess much power. I fear that Drugoth the Gaunt-lord might use his arts to place some spirit within that corpse, raising the most terrible of wights to the service of Angmar."

I had heard of Smaug and this sounded like the wight version of him. "A dragon-wight within reach of Imladris is too grave a threat to be ignored. I must ask you to go into the treasury of Helegrod and put an end to the plans of Drugoth and the Nazgul." _"Easier said than done." _Elrond stood from his chair. He clasped my hands as if to give a blessing. Physical contact with mortals was something an elf rarely did. "May the blessings of the Valar go with you." I left the library, a great weight on my shoulders. I wouldn't turn, I had come too far to turn away.

I left Rivendell without stopping to rest. I had restocked on Lembas, buying one or two more at the market. It was my breakfast, lunch and dinner. My wounds were completely healed. My armor was from the elves of Rivendell. It was intricate, more like wrapping around my body with plates. It was surprisingly flexible and light as chainmail. I headed north from Glóin's camp, seeking Helegrod. It loomed over me as darkness fell. I dismounted and walked up to the doors. It was mostly a gate overlooked by two towers built into a cliff face. The doors opened silently. I took a breath before entering. _"No turning back."_

The air was cold, much colder than what it was outside. I descended down the icy steps, my furs barely keeping out the cold. Torches were lit, but they burned green. The color made everything creepier than what it was. The dwarf halls were carved expertly, soaring into the air. Pillars held up the roof. I heard the clatter of wights and cut them down before they were even half formed.

I cut down wights and hooded men. They had the emblem of Angmar on their red and black robes. The chamber was really straightforward. Coming to a banister I looked over the deepest part of the outside treasury. In the inner chamber that was open to my sight, lay the preserved corpse of a dragon. Some of it's scales had fallen out and it's wings were almost in tatters. Their was no scales on the front of it's chest, so I saw some ribs showing through. Some of his flesh had ice coating it. From here, my best guess was that he was at least two hundred meters in length. His width including wingspan would be a least half that. He curled around the inner chamber like he was asleep. The smell was like bad meat, the smell was so strong it made my eyes water.

I went down the stairs fighting wights as I went. An obelisk pulsed in one of the corners of the outer chamber. In several tongues was writing on the base. "I, Durin, lord of Khazad-dûm, have delved this vault with the aid of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. To protect the great riches found here, there are obelisks crafted by the arts of Elves as a token of friendship. Only those who invoke the name of the Star-kindler may pass. Three times three are the obelisks, and three times must you speak."

"Varda." I spoke and the obelisk shone brightly making feel warmer slightly. I circled the chamber fighting wights and men armed with axes, clubs, and swords. Some were armed with shields. The chill in the air grew, the Nazgul was getting closer. I activated the other obelisks and the air grew warmer combating the fear the Nazgul brought with warmth. Reaching the entrance to the inner chamber, I was halted in place by some force.

The Nazgul and the Gaunt Lord had beaten me here. The Gaunt Lord's spiky crown was tipped with red. His face was that of a skull, below was normal skin, except it was gray. " "I tire of these intrusions! You will wait!" He thudded his staff on the ground and three spirits appeared. "Enough! Do what we came to do and be done with it." The Nazgul unsheathed his sword, a length of black iron. The blade glowed red.

"Your service is needed, spirit! Send your power into this mighty dragon!" The spirit entered the dragon and two points under it wings glowed. The eyes brightened to red orbs. The dragon uncurled itself and my courage went into my boots. The dragon uncurled it's wings and it's muscles jerked. like it was shaking something off. "No! He is breaking free!" The Gaunt Lord shouted out in frustration. "The power of Varda remaining here has broken my control!" The dragon took off, his wings the strongest wind I had ever felt. The wight dragon disappeared in the blackness above the treasury.

The Nazgul growled. A deep guttural sound. "Pursue your charge! I shall deal with this witless worm!" The Nazgul came at me in a whirlwind. I broke out of my rooted state just in time. I blocked and parried. Sparks flew and harsh clangs followed as we dueled. I backed up to one of the obelisks. I could barely keep up. The obelisk reacted to the Nazgul glowing more brightly. The Nazgul's speed slightly slowed.

The wards were slowing him and making me stronger. I blocked, parried, rolled and struck with my shield. The Nazgul seemed to stumble, straight into the brightness of the obelisk. The Nazgul shrieked in pain. It set my teeth on edge. The Nazgul turned and I blocked his next blow with my shield and ran my sword deep into the Ringwraith's hood. "Fool! I cannot be slain by your arts! I return to Mordor and my master!" The Nazgul vanished leaving empty robes behind. I carefully picked it up with my sword. The fabric didn't look like anything special. I put over the flames of a torch and the robes went up with a gentle _whoosh _of flame. I studied my armor. Just scratches against the metal. My shield was another matter. It was nearly cut in half. My arm stung slightly, on a closer look. I realized the Nazgul had wounded me after all.

The comfort was that it wasn't a mogul blade. Their daggers were used for great threats. The wound wasn't deep, but it stung. I cleaned it and applied bandages. I was becoming a patchwork for battle wounds. Outside, the stars were out. They dotted the sky and gleamed like diamonds. _"Thank you, Lady of the Stars." _I stopped at Glóin's camp. The dwarf ran up to me. "When I saw you go into Helegrod, I feared the worst. What happened?" "Good news or the really bad news first?" I replied.

"Lets try the good news first." Glóin answered. "The Nazgul has been driven off." His face broke into a grin. "That is wonderful news! With the Nazgul gone, the threat is passed for the journey to Rivendell." He sighed. "What's the bad news?" A roar came from Helegrod. I had no doubt that they heard it even in Rivendell. Glóin spoke in a small voice. "That'd be the bad news then?" I had never heard a Dwarf speak from fear.

"Thorog." I heard the flap of wings from above and a shape appeared above Helegrod. A dragon silhouetted against the sky. It circled around before landing out of sight. No one in Middle Earth was safe if that thing came under Drugoth's control. Of course, without the guant's direction it would attack Rivendell either way. "Do have any archers? Thorog is vulnerable at the chest." Glóin stared at me. "You mean to kill it?" I nodded grimly. "We have some ballista from the old weaponry but I highly doubt they will fire at all."

He led me inside a chamber of the old dwarf watch where a store of old weapons rested. The string was gone and the wood of the ballista were decaying, abandoned in the dark. "It will do, just needs some repairs." The arrows were still sharp, a direct hit in the chest would kill Thorog instantly. The dwarves were muttering, they huddled inside the ruins. Gimli stood outside alone, shouting and waving his axe, yelling for Thorog to face the Longbeards. We managed to wheel it out, aiming it for Helegrod. I used climbing rope and strung the ballista with it. I mentioned my idea to the Gimli and Glóin. "We need to get him over the walls somehow and hide this ballista from the dragon's view. We only have one shot, so the dragon will have to be close." Gimli was redfaced from his shouting outside at Thorog to come down and face the Longbeards. "How close would he have to be to make the shot?" I breathed out before answering. "Point blank range."

"We'll be roasted at that distance." Glion said matter of factly. "Not if we keep him distracted by something, treasure perhaps. Maybe some live bait to go with it." Gimli stroked his beard at my suggestion. "This plan is foolish, but crazy enough that it just might work." I worked my shield in half, making one half pointed and sloped towards the middle witch was now a board. It looked like a sledge almost. A shield would make no difference against dragon fire. "You greeted me with service to my family. I ask that Dwarves and Men stand together this day, before the flames of a dragon."

"Let's give that Worm a taste of dwarfish steel!" Gimli and Glóin began to prepare the ballista. I began truding towards Helegrod, to face the fire of a dragon. It was slow going, walking through the snows. Wind whipped my fur cape as I walked, my shield arm was pretty much useless. I kept my eye on the sky expecting a dragon to come swooping down. No wights attacked as I trudged up the Steps to the ancient dwarf keep. I opened the doors and I saw what had happened to Drugoth. All that remained was the glowing, melted remains of metal and the scent of ashes in the air. Thorog had torched him.

I heard tramps long before the dragon came from appeared in the courtyard. I hid. Seeing his remains move was a terrible thing to see. An axe rested in his neck, a strange sight. "I know your there, hiding in the shadows. Who are you and where did you come from?" His voice had a power to it that made me want to tell all. I began talking not of my real name or homeland of course. "I am Shadow Piercer, who shines when all is dark. I am from a lake that gleams at night and it's waters blessed me." The dragon chuckled, a rumbling sound. "Excellent titles for one that hides, but do you think that it can save you from my fire?" I rolled behind a crumbling pillar that had once held up a roof. Dragon fire spewed over my former hiding place. The flames were green instead of orange and red. The pillar sheltered me from the flames, but it was _hot. _As soon as it began, it stopped.

"No, I only came to..tell..that Helegrod is abandoned!" I shouted the last part, almost saying that a trap had been laid for him. "The empty treasure vaults tell me that much." I slipped out the doors, my shield at my feet. The dragon flame melted the stone doors. Thorog came outside, crawling like a lizard. His wings spread behind him. My shield moved down the slopes at a rapid pace.

"A hunt? Excellent." I heard the dragon flap his wings and I turned, an arrow knocked in my bow. I loosed it at the spirit in the right wing. The dragon fell out of the sky on take off, crashing into the snows and rocks with a sound like a rumbling storm cloud. Ashe rose I shot his left wing, rendering him flightless. Leaning from side to side, I could steer the remains of my shield like a bridle. The dragon's chest began glowing and I turned to the right. The dragon fire spewed over the rocks protecting me.

My turn had taken me away from the ballista. Passes and valleys of the Misty Mountains stretched before me. I needed a way to get up the slopes. The dragon was right behind me spewing fire. The snow melted from the heat. Passing a high cliff, the dragon fire almost got me. The heat made my fur robe catch fire. I unstrung it, the biting winds tearing into my skin. I heard rumbling from above. A entire mountainside was coming straight for me. The dragon breathed fire at it, turning the avalanche into a rush of steaming water. _"Thanks for the shower." _The water was just right. The next plume of dragon fire dried me off.

I steered up a fallen tree, the trees knocked over by past avalanches. _"Maybe that wasn't the best idea." _The trees went up like kindling behind me, making a wall of fire. I leaned over and stuck my dagger into the ice to turn completely around, taking it out before it could stop me. I could see the shock on the dragon in front of me as I raced towards it. I blind him in one eye with an arrow. The dragon screeched in pain, more like a bat call than anything. I went around it as it thrashed in pain.

I had forgotten about the cliff. The ground dropped off, I angled my shield to meet the ground. The wind tore at me. I heard the dragon leap off behind me, jaws wide. I hit the ground with a impact that shocked my ankles. I was lucky that they didn't break or sprain, but it did _hurt._ The dragon landed behind me less gracefully. Thudding into the snows with a _whoomp._ It began crawling towards me in pain and clearly angry by it's snarling. I heard the sound of a ballista being fired. I heard the sound of shattering wood. The thunk of a bolt finding it's mark and the sound of a dragon collapsing. It was too soon. An abyss loomed before me.

How to stop this thing? I jumped off into a snowdrift, landing into it with a puff of snow as my shield went off the slopes. I was buried in the snow, everything spun around and around. I couldn't move. I simply lay there, looking at the sky swirl. I struggled to rise, do anything really. All that came out was a "gah" when I tried to speak. Lying out here would be a horrible way to die. My body shivered. I sat up, but fell over when I tried to stand. Silence was all I heard, the winds blowing over the cold mountains.

I could only sit and wait for my legs to start working properly. As the day wore on, I tried to stand again, succeeding this time. The dragon's body was at the edge of the cliff, unmoving. One foot in front of the other, I began walking lurching towards it. Closer I could see the bolt was buried deep into the dragon. His eyes vacant, that once gleamed with malice. I placed a hand on the axe buried in his neck and pulled it out. The axe was double bladed and still sharp by the edges. The metal gleamed. The work of the elves was unmistakable. The runes were on the flats, circling around the decorative inlays of a anvil and hammer. The lather had rotted away, but the wood was preserved by the cold.

I began prying scales off the skin. Armor made from this would be almost invincible. I took all that remained of his scales, enough to make lamellar. A design of armor that was tougher than mail, just as light and flexible too. As I worked, my dazed sate fell away. I reapplied the bandages to my arm with clean ones. I took axe from the dragon's neck as well. I saw stirrings come from the camp below. A company of dwarves came up to the body of Thorog.

All was silent with bated breath. The axe was hidden in my pack. It was a gift from the elves, the elves should give it back to them, instead of a man. "Thorog has fallen! The lost glory of the dwarves that fell to him has been restored!" Gimli's cry went up and the victory celebration was just as rowdy as the one in Othrikar, if not more so. Food was flying, the kegs opened and flowing. Gimli and Glóin told their tale of how they fired the bolt that slew the dragon, while I distracted him with my escaping. A number of dwarves pledged their service to me and the House of Durin would call me dwarf friend, once the tale was told in Thorin's Halls and Erebor.

The songs and tales of victory were far stretched as every good story deserved to be retold in a memorable way. I don't think any of the dwarves would remember the true tale after I was gone. It was then that I decided to write these stories down as I had seen them. I had a pad of paper and a pen given to me by the healer when I asked for it. As the party winded down and dwarves lay around after drinking too much, all was silence. The sun rose by the light in the sky.

Such beauty after so much dark. If it was one thing I had learned, it was to treasure the light moments. I simply sat and thought on what had happened. The attack on Archet still troubled my dreams. It was a dirty business. It was simpler back when I was a trader. You traveled wherever there was a market for selling. I remembered my first find of an artifact from Annúminas, a small statuette used to reward those that served the Kingdom of Arnor. It was miniature statue of Elendil the Tall. I kept it as a good luck token. It still lay in my room, upright on my dresser.

I wrote down what had happened so far, just notes really. One day I would remember. I left the camp, Sarto was glad to see me. He nickered. "Think we are over our heads?" The horse nodded. "Thought so." My wound was healing slowly, but a black mark was spreading up my veins. That wasn't good. The Nazgul's blade was poisoned with something else besides that of a Morgul blade. It would need elvish healing. As approached Rivendell, everything was blurry. I could feel the poison near my heart.

An elf maid was watching the road. Her black hair was unbound and long. My vision seemed to get better as she approached me. Her eyes were a shade of bright blue. "Help. Please." I swayed on the horse, my vision fading fast. The ground rushed up and darkness claimed me before I hit the ground.

* * *

**"Courage is the form of readiness to die."**

**Sindarin Translation: See to it that our guest is at peace.**

**Reviews keep the adventure going! **


	7. Three Quests for Three Ages

When I awoke, my wounds had been tended to. I still ached but it was bearable. I got up from the bed finding that my armor had been repaired and I was wearing a white tunic. A skilled healer had taken care of the burns on my skin. A low fire burned in one corner, adding warmth. My pack was undisturbed and ready for a journey.

I found that I was in the House of Elrond. The room I had been healed in was just off from the Hall of Fire. I closed the door leading out and shed the elven cloth, my armor was more preferable. I left my sack, but not my weapons. The Hall of Fire was warm and inviting. A fire in the central hearth cast it's warm light over gentle blues, golds and whites.

Leaving the abode of Elrond, I breathed in the autumn air. I needed to find someone who could identify the axe I had recovered. At the Spire of Meeting, an elf approached me. His hair brown and robe red as the autumn colors. "Mae govannen, friend. My name is Gonediad, a student in the lore of Eregion." Prefect timing. "Danagor." I greeted. "Could you identify this axe for me? I found it in Thorog's neck." I revealed the axe to the elf, the double sided axe head engraved with elven runes. It was still sharp, the metal untarnished by the ages.

The elf picked up the axe and his eyes widened slightly. "You have done the impossible, Danagor. I never believed this hour would come. Mírdanant, the Axe of Durin the Fifth, a gift from the Elves of Eregion, returned from out of the darkness." Gonediad lifted up his voice. "Hear me, Elves of Imladris!" The shout was well audible, the voice echoed throughout the valley bouncing off the hills. No doubt every elf in the Hidden Valley heard it.

A crowd of elves soon gathered. "What has excited you so, Gonediad?" An elf asked from the crowd. Lord Elrond, his sons, Gandalf, Bilbo, appeared from the Last Homely House. An elf maiden walked next to Lord Elrond, the same one that had approached me before I fell unconscious. This could only be Elrond's daughter, Lady Arwen. "Yes, Gonediad, tell us, though I suspect I know the cause of your delight."

Gonediad had called every elf in the Hidden Valley. "You have it aright, my lord. The dragon Thorog is defeated!" Mutterings and whispers from the crowd. "Is this true?" An elf whispered. Bilbo spoke up. "Now, I know a thing or two about slaying dragons, you might say, and it isn't easy. Smaug himself was quite a terror, you know, and this Thorog sounds just as mean-tempered! So, Gonediad, who could have done this? Don't leave us in suspense!" Gonediad smiled. "Danagor braved the dangers of Helegrod and defeated the dragon Thorog!" The crowd turned towards me, more whispers. "Can it be so?" Another elf asked.

Gonediad hefted Mírdanant. "Your eyes see true. For here is Mírdanant, returned from out of the darkness!" From the distance, I heard a dwarven horn. Gonediad lowered Mirdanant. "It appears, we have more guests." The elves turned to the paths leading up to the Misty Mountains. Gonediad passed me Mirdanant. I could see why. Some of the Dwarves were armed. Glóin had arrived.

"Greetings to you, Master Elrond, Lady Arwen, Burglar Bilbo." Glóin was still in his chainmail. "I heard that the Slayer of Thorog Reborn stays in Rivendell. Is this true?" Elrond approached the Dwarf Lord, who was at the head of a column. It was a token force of the army I had seen in the Misty Mountains. "You have heard true, Glóin, son of Gróin." Elrond spoke evenly. There was a tenseness in the air. "I am pleased to hear it! There was rumour too that the Axe of Durin, lost in the first defeat of Thorog, had been recovered." That explained it.

The Dwarves had come to reclaim the Axe of Durin. "This must go to the dwarves." It felt like a cold wind had blown in. Bilbo broke the stillness."Oh no! It's the Arkenstone all over again!" I approached the meeting between two lords. Both turned to study me. Elrond's gaze piercing as the winter winds, Glóin with an appraising look of a trader. Or a dwarven miner trying to figure out if he struck real or false gold.

"I didn't know that the axe in Thorog's neck was Mirdanat. I was poisoned by the Nazgul and the wound needed elvish treatment. Also, as the axe was given in friendship to the Dwarves from the Elves, it should be so again." I gave the axe to Elrond. Glóin stroked his beard. To say that Dwarves had a tense relationship to the Elves was an understatement.

Elrond presented the Axe of Durin the Fifth to Glóin. "It was given once in friendship, let it be so again." Glóin accepted the axe. "Well, I see. Yes, very good. We are at your service and your family's, of course! Let the old friendships never be forgotten!" Some of the tension left the air. "This seems like the perfect opportunity for a feast, wouldn't you say, Master Elrond?" Bilbo spoke up again. Elrond turned to the old hobbit. "You have just come from a feast, Bilbo! Have you forgotten?"

Bilbo grinned. "I still have one or two corners left to fill up, I'd say!" That earned a few laughs. Elrond smiled. "It seems I have no choice, my friends! Let us retire for preparation of the feast!" The dwarves quickly set up camp in a wooded area of Rivendell. Glóin stayed behind. "I owe you both an apology." Glóin turned to me. "No apology is needed, Danagor. You can tell a lot about the character of a man if they fight beside you in battle. You didn't strike me as a thief or a man of unhonest words. Besides, you prevented a skirmish between Elves and Dwarves over a family heirloom. Mahal knows that those types of wars are the bloodiest"

They left to help their kin set up camp. Climbing the path to the House of Elrond, I found that sunset was now falling. I had been out for a day. The weight of my pack told me I still had something to do. Behind the marketplace of Rivendell and down a path in the northwest corner, I found the forges. Elven smiths worked over forges, making armor and swords for the fight against the Shadow. The forges were made of white bricks and smoke rose from the fires. Sparks flew. Hammers clanged.

I approached the forges. A brown haired elf with robes of green and gold vines sewn in a cunning pattern, hailed me. "Well met, Danagor. Welcome to the Forges of Imladris. My name is Hemeldir." He was obviously a skilled smith by the way his hands were lined from labor. "I need lamellar armor to be crafted out of a special material." I showed him a scale from the dragon Thorog.

The elf smith cracked a smile. "Dragon scales, a highly prized armor material and difficult to work with because of its hardness. It can be done, but it will take a few days to make." I reached for the bottom of the pack, feeling for the jewel encrusted scale I had pulled off from the dragon's stomach. "I can pay you for the work in advance." I offered. Hemeldir shook his head. "I am Lord Elrond's chief smith. No payment is necessary. The work in itself is a reward." A few elves gathered the scales. "I shall send for you when the work is completed."

Hemeldir walked back to the bright forges. I made my way back to the House of Elrond. Stashing my gear in my room in the guest quarters, I walked past columns that reminded me of trees and everything seemed to be open to the air. I found my way to the libary and sat before the fire. The warm cracklings from the hearth dispelled some of the chills I had still from the mountains. I could relax for a time. I made a few more jottings in my my journal, just drawings of Thorog and the Nazgul I had faced. The Shadow was rising in Arda once again. My thoughts turned to Angmar. I had no doubt my paths would soon lead to that dark land.

The smell of food wafted down into the libary. I found my way back to the Hall of Fire. A feast was spread out. Ale and wine caskets had been brought up. A few meats, breads and vegatables were scattered around the middle. The meats looked to be brought up by the dwarves. A few harps added came into the hall and a quiet hush fell. "Guests from the many lands of Middle Earth, welcome to Rivendell. As of late, the dragon Thorog reborn was slain by two dwarves, Glóin and his son, Gimli. A man hailing from the shores of Evendim, also lent his aid. Let the old alliances of the Free Folk be remembered, for you have no doubt heard of the growing shadows on your lands." Elrond sat and the feast began.

A good warm meal away from the road eased my thoughts of the darkness out of Angmar along with my stomach. I could tell that the breads and greens came from Rivendell. Elves did hunt, though only for sport. The wine was smooth and warm going down, the bread flaky. Apples, Potatoes, Carrots, a collection of soups, pies, and casseroles were laid out. As night approached, the telling of tales began during the feast. Elves sung of the woods and streams of Middle Earth.

I retired for the night as the moon began to rise, a sliver crescent that lit the paths. I fell asleep soundly in the guest quarters. A cool wind blew, but I was comfortably warm. My eyelids grew heavy and I drifted into a dreamless sleep. I awoke to a bird call outside my chambers. The blue feathered bird tweeted once and flew off.

A knock on the door brought me out of admiring the sight of Rivendell spread before me. I hurriedly dressed in my armor. Once everything was in place, I opened the door. Hemeldir was waiting outside. "Danagor, your armor is ready and waiting. I must say, the work has been my best yet." I walked with him down to the forges. "I have no doubt that this armor I have crafted will see many things and win great renown." Hemeldir had great faith in his work. The way he said it made me wonder what else his elf eyes saw of the future.

At the forges, the red scaled armor had been polished to a shine. Glinting the color of red autumn leaves, the scales overlapped one another. It was obviously crafted with care and skill. The armor was light, yet flexible enough to allow free movement. I had heard of mithril, a metal that only the dwarves knew how to forge. This was the closest thing to it. A complete suit had been made.

I donned my new armor and sold the older. I didn't want to be weighed down. I put the helmet, gauntlets and scaled boots in my room. The more comfortable sturdy boots and gloves I kept with me. It wasn't long before I was summoned to a meeting of Gandalf, Aragorn, Elrond and Glorfindel to discuss the rise of Angmar.

The meeting was held on the east porch, the waters of the Falls of Imladris making it very hard to eavesdrop. For arches facing the falls were covered with flowering ivy, the smells of flowers and trees was carried on warm air, as if summer still held its sway in the gardens. A chair had been brought up for me. Glorfindel walked in his own column of light, the light of Valinor dwelled within him. I could believe the story that he was reincarnated from his death during the Fall of Gondolin.

The sun was at its peak when the council began. The meeting began without greetings, meaning that this was serious. Elrond spoke first. "We gathered here have seen the stirring of Angmar. The Nine ride again in these lands and the threat of war on Eriador is too grave to be taken lightly. With the Kingdom of Arnor no more and the Rangers scattered, Angmar could be the hammer that strikes the Free Peoples against the anvil of Mordor."

Aragorn spoke, his voice weary from some weight on his mind. "Last night, a falcon arrived from Daervunn in Esteldín, the hidden refuge of my people in the North Downs. It would appear that another such bird came to Esteldín from the North, gravely wounded, bearing a message from one of my kinsmen we had believed long dead. I fear that the news is grave, for Corunir was deemed lost years ago when his captain, Golodir, disobeyed my edict and took a company north into Angmar. They were never heard from again. It is a joy that Corunir lives, but what kept him from contacting us before now?"

Glorfindel nodded. "If news cannot come out of Angmar, then a friend of mine Iorelen is in grave peril. A few months ago, she journeyed into Angmar to the Rift, a place the servants of the Enemy call Nûrz Ghâshu. It is said that a great evil dwells there beneath the Mountains of Angmar, and he went to seek news of it. Glathlírel, another ally of mine, had gone long ago and did not return, though it is said among the Wise that the evil there was contained."

Gandalf nodded. "The evil there is great indeed and it is even more important for us to send someone to Angmar, while my charge goes east." Elrond stood. "It is decided, Danagor is to go north and find how things stand in Angmar." I had a feeling it had been already decided the night before. The council disbanded. Aragorn remained behind.

"I have thought long and hard about the task I am about to entrust to you, Danagor. Lord Elrond has already given his approval for this task that must be carried out in secrecy. I have borne this broken blade for many long years, Danagor. Always unused, for these are the shards of Narsil." I started backwards from the shock. Three tasks for Three Ages. "Narsil, the sword wielded by Elendil of Westernesse in battle before the Black Gate of Mordor, the sword that broke beneath him in battle with Sauron upon the slopes of Orodruin.

But it was not to be so! Though Gil-galad had fallen, and Elendil was slain, two still stood against the might of Sauron in the shadow of that fell tower: Isildur, the son of the king, and Elrond Halfelven, herald of Gilgalad. With a final effort, Isildur picked up the hilt-shard of Narsil and cut the One Ring from his finger, and the power of the Dark Lord was broken.

The light of Narsil was extinguished, but its shards came again to the North, though Isildur himself never returned from the Gladden Fields. The shards have been passed from father to son in his line for years beyond count, but the sword has never been remade. Alas, the old victories did not last and the Shadow has returned. We have need of Narsil's light once more. The Blade That Was Broken must be reforged."

"My Lord, I am unworthy for such a task. I am just a simple trader from the lake shores of Evendim." Aragorn grasped my shoulder. A ring of two serpents with emerald eyes gleamed, one crowned with flowers the other devouring. The Ring of Barahir. "You stopped being a trader the moment you stood against a Nazgul. I place my confidence not just in your skills, but in you. You will act in my stead for Narsil to be reforged."

My heart felt hot within me. Aragorn tied a band around my arm. The band was a work of art, showing both the White Tree of Gondor, the jewelled crown and seven stars of the House of Elendil. "Lady Arwen sewed that for the person who would act in my stead in this matter. Before you leave, I will tell all about my failing." I sat and listened. How could he possibly fail? He was my chieftain and rightful king of Arnor and Gondor.

"Of old, Elves of the house or Fëanor crafted numerous wonders, items of great power and beauty. Among these were the Silithair, adamants possessed of the light of the stars. The dwarf-smith Telchar used one of these stones in the creation of Narsil and the Silithair caused the blade to glow with silver light when wielded in battle. Any sword forged from the shards of Narsil will be a lesser weapon without a Silithar to use in the forging."

"At the age of twenty, Lord Elrond took me aside and told me my true name and of my heritage, that I descended in unbroken line from Elendil of old. He gave to me the ring of Barahir and the shards of Narsil, but he withheld the Sceptre of Annúminas, saying I had yet to earn it. He withheld too another treasure, but I will not speak of that. Soon afterward, I went in search of a Silithar with which Narsil might be reforged. Yes, I knew then of the ancient Silithair and of the need for one."

"I journeyed to Annúminas, the city of my fathers. Even then it stood empty for long years, but it was once the shining jewel of my people, and I desired to see it with my own eyes. I thought too that if I recovered the Silithar that lay within Annúminas, I might reforge Narsil and prove myself worthy of the fate to which I had been born. Elladan and Elrohir accompanied me on my journey to Evendim, and my kinsman Calenglad, for he had sworn an oath to my father and renewed it in my name before we departed."

I remembered Calenglad, a bald man with only hair coming down his chin and above his ears. His brown eyes had studied many a battlefield. He was captain of the Rangers at Tinnudir, my home. When I was a boy, he had taught me how to study the land. Environment could make all the difference in a battle. He knew every hill and trail of Evendim backwards.

"Much of the city had already been reclaimed by the waters of Lake Nenuial when we arrived, and I despaired of finding the Silithar within the flooded tomb where it lay. The maiden Gwindeth appeared before us and charged me with a task to prove my worthiness of receiving the Silithar. Gwindeth found me lacking I am afraid, The Silithar was not to be mine that day. When I stood before the flooded passages of Elendil's empty tomb on the outskirts of Annúminas, I believed it right that Narsil be reforged. I could not understand why Gwindeth refused me access to the Silithar. Now I believe I understand." Aragorn seemed to drift off into memory, like an elder did. The Dunedain lifespan could involve more than a hundred years.

"Gwindeth, so it _wasn't_ a dream." I muttered. The memory of the dream of the Tomb of Elendil and the glowing stone resurfaced again. "I met Gwindeth once, she saved me from drowning in the waters of the lake." Aragorn actually started, he was so surprised. Than a wide grin appeared. "It appears fate has guided you in this matter. Though I must warn you though, respect cannot be bought, it must be earned. Do not undervalue it, and we shall yet see Andúril forged from the shards of Narsil."

Aragorn passed me a letter. "This is for Calengald, explaining that you act in my stead and have my confidence." We bid each other farewell. My thoughts drifted to my father's blade. Something told me deep in my gut that home should be my first destination. I began to pack my things on Sartos, my horse had gotten leaner. "Have you been eating Lembas when I wasn't looking?" I was answered by a knicker. Sartos rode out at a walk, once over the Falls of Rivendell and the small gate between two tall rocks, the horse broke out into a full gallop. The late October air was tinged with the fast coming season of winter. The morning sun rising behind me.


	8. Homeland Changes

The journey to Evendim took about two weeks from Rivendell on horse. The sparse expanse of the Lone Lands, the plains and forests of Bree-land, and the rolling green hills of the Shire passed me by. I slept from dusk to dawn. I rode as if the Lord of the Nazgul was right behind me.

In early November, I arrived at the isle of Tinnudir. My home had changed and not in a way I recognized. There was only a few people outside. Guards and mostly people going outside because they had a chore or job elsewhere. The forge was making swords and armor. Every so often, someone would glance east, towards Fornost. My village had come under the threat of coming war.

A guard came up. "Halt and state your business." No one had ever asked me that before in my hometown. The threat of Angmar was being felt more strongly in the North than I thought. The guard was young, around fifteen or so. The armor he was wearing looked to be too big for him. A mop of brown hair was almost in his eyes. "I live here, my name is Danagor, son of Iris." Yes, my mother's name was a flower's. It fit her well, she can bring light into any room just by walking in and was one of the best people around. The best people always had the rottenest luck. Her mother and father died in an orc raid, while she was left to fend for herself with an adoptive family that did provide for her early years, but didn't care much about her. The best thing that ever happened to her was meeting my dad.

The guard stepped aside. I looked around the village, it looked the same. The people had changed. _"What had happened?"_ After stabling my horse, I knocked on the front door to my home. I heard the door unlocking and the door opened wide to reveal my mother. She swept me in a hug. "You're back!" I breathed in and barely managed to keep myself from crying, just barely. "Hi, Mom." She held me out at arm's length and smiled. "You've been gone so long, I was beginning to worry. I knew that you were alive." She ushered me in and sat me down at the table.

"You've grown so much since I saw you, more confident. I wish your father could see you now. He would be proud." I was really glad to see her okay. "Something happened to you, didn't it?" My mother's question kind of killed the happy reunion. There was no use lying to her, she saw through everything eventually. "Yes." "Should I tell her?" "I...have seen darkness rising in the world." My eyes went down to the table, it wasn't the whole truth. I just didn't feel like talking about it, yet. "I've tried to keep you from trouble, but it always seems to find you. If...If you intend on taking this path, I won't stop you. Just know that I will be praying for your safety, no matter what sky you are under." My mother's eyes where shining in way that told me she was crying on the inside.

"I will make you proud, mom." She smiled sadly. "I will only be a moment, wait here." She left the room and I heard her footsteps stop in her bedroom. A few moments later, she emerged holding my father's sword in its scabbard. "This is your father's sword, he left it here for you." I took the scabbard and blade from her hands. The scabbard was polished leather with an etching of seven stars. I unsheathed the blade and it didn't have an inner glow like the last time I had seen it. It felt like...something had been removed from the blade. "Careful, the blade is still sharp."

My mother was stewing a soup together. "Put your weapons away if you are going to eat here." I put them in a corner and stood them up. I stashed the blade Aragorn had given me. "At least a hot meal before you go." My mother ladled a soup that had some potatoes, corn and chicken in a warm broth. "I will be around Evendim for about a week or so, before I leave for now." The soup warmed my throat going down and the added solid bits filled my belly. "What happened to the village?" I asked.

"Grave robbers, more than usual have turned up. Calenglad's already sent men to help clear them out. Ost Forod's is also lending aid, but the northern passes are filled with roving bands of Hillmen from Forochel, bandits and goblins. It is a good thing that an alliance has been formed with the North Downs or there would be war in Bree and the Shire." A feeling of dread settled in my stomach. "That explains why the village seems like a war camp now." My mother nodded. "Trading goes south and east now through the long route of the Shire. Some families have even moved. I will have hope though, because a small candle is all the brighter against the darkness."

"Yeah." I got up from the table and shouldered my gear. "I will return." I couldn't say goodbye. I found Calenglad in his usual spot near a makeshift camp that some travelers had set up in a ruin. "Danagor, it has been a long time." Calenglad knew every Ranger in Evendim. He seemed more haggard than usual. "I have a letter from Strider." I passed it to him. Calenglad frowned. "This is indeed his hand and you are a Dunedain." He read the letter twice. "I will speak with Gwindeth alone, but the work of keeping Evendim safe will not stand for the delay caused by my journey to her home."

"I would have you travel northeast to Ost Forod in Tyrn Fornech and offer your aid to a friend of the Rangers, Robin Dunkley. He is our ally against those who would plunder Annúminas. I will send word when I have returned from my meeting with Gwindeth." I saddled my horse, wicth was nearby. Ost Forod was day's ride away. The sun had reached its zenith when I started out. I slept in the field, using a bush for cover. My horse on its side. I was getting used to sleeping on the ground, my back wasn't getting so sore in the morning.

Ost Forod guarded the road from the North. The Tribe of the Lossoth often traded here as well for goods from the south. The ruins of the old fortress had attracted adventurers and robbers, with an arbiter between them to keep the peace. The peace looked frayed, when I saw the hard and worn people of the trading post. Robin Dunkley had been a friend of the Rangers since I had been born. I often traded furs and food for the relics that robbers had left behind or were found scattered around Ost Forod. His hair had gone white, but still wore his leather armor.

He grinned when he saw me. "Danagor! You are welcome here, old friend. There's no shortage of trouble among the hills of Tyrn Fornech, and it seems that more and more of these robbers appear every day. Life has become hard in Tyrn Fornech and some of the folk who live here at Ost Forod have begun dealing with the robbers in order to better their fortunes. It pains me to say this, but even now in Ost Forod you can find relics stolen from Annúminas." "So you want me to steal them back for the Rangers?" I asked. Robin lowered his voice to a whisper. "You can find a chest full of relics next to the tents on the highest floor. Please understand that the folk of Ost Forod who trade with the robbers are not bad people; their desperation makes them unfriendly and more willing to compromise their values, but I do not want you to hurt them." Robin added in a hurry.

"Carry the chest to the Rangers in Tinnudir and avoid the men of Ost Forod." A few shifty looking men were nearing us. I began walking forward, like I had business at the tavern. Looking around, I could see that there were a lot more traveler's than usual, outnumbering the people that lived here two to one at least. No wonder Robin was worried. The tents had been picthed right next to the tavern, a place that had once been part of Ost Forod's hall. This might be harder than I thought. A lot of them were passed out cold at their tents. I walked forward like I belonged. I saw the chest soon enough and it was unguarded, meaning that the guard had passed out from drink. The smell of alcohol made my eyes water.

The chest was made of wood, open slightly so that I could see that a few pieces of silverwork had been stolen from their tombs. Daggers, cups, bowls, and coins glittered inside. The guard was burly, like he was half bear. I quickly stooped to pick it up, the early morning light making the man groan in his sleep. It wasn't as if I could hurl the chest over the side, the relics would get damaged and make a huge racket. Good thing my cloak over my armor had dozens of pouches. The cloak kept me warm at night, living to the south of Forochel meant that the late months of fall made the wind have a bite to it. My cloak was soon loaded with relics.

I almost to my horse when a drunken upcry went up from the thieves' camp. Great. I managed to heave myself up on my horse. "Run, Sartos." My horse was away like a shot. The gallop so fast that the ground blurred beneath us. I kept my eyes forward, straining from the wind. Ost Forod had disappeared behind me. Sartos breathed in and out. "Easy, boy." Sartos slowed slightly, not a full gallop but close. I didn't want to be caught out here, my cloak full with silver relics. I kept riding from a full day, not even stopping to eat except on a slow walk, so I could look around for any signs of pursuit. There were none.

Tinnudir emerged from the horizon at about sunset. How fast had we traveled? A Ranger was on guard this time. He let me in without a question, just a nod. I made my way to a market, built around some ruins of a house or another part of the keep. I managed to get off my horse with some difficulty. The silver was all still there, thank the Vala for tie down pockets. I made my way over to a Ranger sorting relics on a carpet. The Ranger's name was Astiul, he was charge of repairing relics and returning them to their proper places in the tombs.

"Danagor, I had heard you had returned and Calenglad had gone to seek the Lady of Nenuial. He has returned faster than expected. He waits for you near the docks." The docks serviced a small collection of dinghy's for crossing Lake Nenuial. Triple sailed and two decks, the boats were the fastest way to cross Lake Evendim. Six men could sit inside one comfortably, with all their equipment and supplies for a four week journey. One person could crew it easily enough. The lake itself was a five day's journey across, if you had the wind with you.

Calenglad was windswept and soaked from his journey. "I have spoken with Gwindeth about acquiring the Silithar for Aragorn, but she is not satisfied with what I have told her of you. She wants to meet you herself." I climbed aboard. Lake Nenuial was calm and the wind was with us.

"Gwindeth will only allow us to recover the Silithar if she believes that you are worthy of her trust and that Aragorn is ready for the burden that awaits him. She did not hesitate to rebuke him when he and I encountered her almost sixty years ago; I have no doubt that she would do so again, if it was in her mind. Speak to her with respect and do not seek to hide anything from her! The Blue Lady has lived in these lands for years uncounted, and she had patience only for the kings of Annúminas. It is said that Elendil consulted her often on various matters, and she grieved his passing." Calenglad told me as the dingy sailed out of view of Tinnudir.

These circumstances were way too creepy in hindsight. I had a dream about the Silithar and now I was supposed to retrieve it for the reforging of Narsil. It was the first time I was aware of something beyond the world of mortals guiding my fate. Shivers ran up and down my back. I usually am not a praying type, but I prayed to the Eönwë to guide my blade in the struggles to come.

We arrived at Gwindethrond, a cave hidden behind a waterfall. Calenglad stayed behind. Mists rose from the falls and I waded ashore. The falls emptied into a pond that led into the lake. Entering the cave, the air was damp and cool. Moss grew along the walls. Light floated in the air. This place was indeed a place of enchantment. Gwindeth was waiting for me.

She hadn't changed at all. Of course, she was undying. "You are the messenger from Aragorn son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dúnedain? You speak with his voice, and he shall be judged by yours, messenger, for he chose you as his agent. If there is much of Elendil in him, I do not doubt that Aragon son of Arathorn will be found worthy. If there is not, the Silithar will remain where it has lain for centuries." She knew my errand before I had even opened my mouth.

"Lady Gwindeth." I bowed my head. Gwindeth studied me. "Danagor, if I am not mistaken? I had a feeling you would return one day to ask for the Silithar." "Yes, my lady." I answered. She was even colder than I remembered. Then again, the evil in the north was stirring.

"Before he went away to his doom, Elendil often spoke with me beside Nenuial; we would walk among the reeds and speak of his kingdom, and he treated me with grace and respect. It is for the memory of great Elendil that I maintain the lake and protect the relics of his line. At the behest of Amlaith, the last king to sit enthroned in Annúminas, I permitted the waters of Nenuial to wash over the walls of the city, and the treasures of proud Elendil now sleep soundly in the watery half-light."

"The adamant you seek, the Silithar that passed from Gil-galad to Elendil and his line through the safe-keeping of Círdan the Shipwright, cannot be reclaimed without my permission. It was the will of Amlaith that the Silithar be kept safe, even from those of Elendil's line, for fear that its light would be wasted unduly or the stone taken by the Enemy."

"The islands of Tyl Ruinen have been overrun by salamanders, corrupted beasts that singe the grasses and taint the waters of Nenuial. Swim north-east to Tyl Ruinen in the centre of the lake and defeat the salamanders you find there. The statues of noble Elendil that stand upon Tyl Ruinen, have been corrupted by the vile salamanders, tainted with dread ichor, and the other has been removed from its pedestal - the statue itself has been lost."

"You will need a cleansing draught of some kind to restore the statue the salamanders have ruined. Elves have come to the Eavespires, far to the north and east of Rushingdale, where a stream flows into the lake; they may prepare such a draught for you. I do not know where you may find the missing statue. Perhaps the scavengers of Ost Forod have seized it."

"If you can restore both of the statues, I may be able to more readily judge your worth and the worthiness of Aragorn son of Arathorn. When both statues of mighty Elendil once more stand untroubled on the south-west and south-east shores of Tyl Ruinen, I will speak with you again on this matter."

Waters covered me and I had the sensation of being sped through the waters of the lake. My audience with Gwindeth was over. I appeared a distance from the Rushingdale. A camp was set up at the lakeshore. Trees towered over the camp. An elf with silver hair and blue tunic greeted me. "It is well that you could join us here, friend!"

"Well met, friend." I greeted. "Do you have a draught that could clean the statue of Elendil on Tyl Ruinen? Lady Gwindeth sent me to return them to their former places." The elf studied me with his old eyes. I had heard elves could see if someone was lying just by eye contact alone. "Hoom, hoom, you are far from home." A voice said in an earthy tone. I heard heavy footfalls and the creaking of tree branches. I turned and saw an Ent. Now that was something I had heard about, never seen with my own eyes. "This is Longbough." The elf introduced.

The Ent had the appearance of a tree on legs. Pale green eyes gleamed were the head would be. Another elf brought in blackened and rotting tree limbs. She had blonde hair cut short and blue eyes, dull from war. She wore hunter's garb and chainmail. "I feel pain in the soil, the trees, and the water." She informed us. A few scratches had torn fabric. "My wife, Erchiel. I am Lithuifin." The elf introduced me to his wife. She seemed sad and distant.

She placed the blighted remains at the feet of the Ent. The Ent rumbled. "Hoom! From the blighted branches you brought to us, I have divined much. There was once an ancient tree in the southern forest whom I was once well acquainted with, but after the destruction wrought upon the forest during the wars long ago, it became withdrawn and would speak with me no more...even though my own despair at the acts of Men was nearly as great."

"Now it seems that the Wood-trolls, particularly this one called Heart-rot, have whispered long to the Huorn in its slumber and re-awakened it under their thrall. Its heart is now black and twisted with their malice, and it will suffer no living thing of flesh in its domain. Hom! Ta-room! Were that all that had transpired, I would pay it less heed, for the Twisted Heart's folly is its own, but now its roots run deep and far, ever grasping and twisting the trees that they touch, and the Wood-trolls will follow in its wake. I cannot allow the Twisted Heart to warp the entire forest to its will. We must stand against it and fell both it and the vile troll that has corrupted it."

"Be careful, for the Twisted Heart's power has grown fell, and I fear it will be all we can do to face it in the place of its greatest strength, but we have no choice! Ta-rum! Hoom!" Lithuifin frowned. "In exchange for the elixir, would you help Longbough? I fear that the forests of Middle Earth have grown dark as of late."

I nodded and followed Longbough into the forests and high hills of Emyn Uial. The trees had crowded closer together. The smell of rot assaulted my nostrils. Flies buzzed around. The very trees seemed to reach out. Longbough kept a steady pace. No wood trolls attacked as of yet. We entered the clearing and a tree was standing on it's roots. The smell of decay made my eyes water. "Fooruum... The Twisted Heart lies dormant, its roots sunk deep into the earth. We must find them, and cut off its sustenance." Longbough spoke. I unsheathed my blade and readied my shield. A cave was off to one side of the clearing, just big enough for a wood troll. Apparently. It was visited often by woodtrolls by the tracks in the mud.

Something was waiting for us. I went in alone, Longbough couldn't enter. The Ent stood watching the tree in the middle of the clearing. "We draw close to the roots of the Twisted Heart - once they are destroyed he will be forced to awaken and then you must strike!" Longbough said from outside the cave. As I went deeper into the mossy cave, my danger sense spiked.

I brought my shield around and was just in time to see a Woodtroll charge out. His bark was scorched by fire from an earlier encounter. "I am not... ssso eeassily defeeated... do not underessstimate my power..." The wood troll hissed. His roots for fingers attacked and I slashed them off. The woodtroll regrew them instantly.

I vaulted over him and slashed his thigh. The wood troll snarled. His wounds were healing faster than I could make them. I attacked in a flurry of short slashes, leaving shallow cuts and removing his roots again. The woodtroll was erratic in his movements, failing around with his roots. That was when water began to flood the cave. As it touched my feet, I felt alive to every fingertip and the cool breeze of the wind through the forests in summer.

The woodtroll wilted. Skin going darker. I cut it in half. The wood troll thudded to the floor. Going around it, I found a pool. Green mist rose from the black waters. Roots dangled from above, into the pool. They twitched now and then. I slashed in a wide arc, cutting them in half. That was when I heard the sound of smashing wood and branches creaking. "Fharrooom!" Longbough said from above. "The Twisted Heart's roots must remain cut, little one!" They were indeed regrowing slowly. Other's tried to impale me.

I blocked and bashed with my shield and slashed with my sword. Block, slash, block, slash. The roots never made it to the water's surface. Above, I heard the sounds or branches breaking and creaking. Loud snaps echoed. It sounded like a major wind was blowing through the trees above. Then I heard the roar of an enraged Ent. A mix of thunder and earth. The earthen roof was torn free.

I saw Longbough holding the Huorn by the trunk, over his head. The branches of the tree flailed wildly. Longbough brought it down on the ground like a hammer hitting an anvil. The tree burst into kindling with much crackling and snapping noises. Longbough spread the remains over the edges of the grove. "Well fought, Little One! Hoom! The Twisted Heart has been uprooted, and Heart-rot destroyed. Their corruption will spread no further. Eventually this grove will return to what it was, but the healing shall take time. Let us be quit of this dark place, shall we?"

I noticed that golden sunlight was beginning to filter through the trees. The smell of rot vanished in the air, replaced by the smell of a clean forest. Fresh air. Longbough had acquired some wounds. Bark had been torn off in places and sap trailed from shallow cuts. As I watched, the sap dried up and the wounds closed. Bark began to regrow. It seemed the purging of the evil of this forest had restored Longbough as well.

I followed Longbough back to the elven camp. Longbough spoke "Hoom! Hoom! It has been ever so long since my blood has run with such heat and fervour! That was well fought, Little One! Indeed,while I have little love for axes and swords, I had forgotten the enjoyable haste of battle. Ta-room! Even now though, I fell the anger of the forest subsiding as the Twisted Heart's influence fades. Soon some measure of peace shall return here, I think. My thanks to you, Little One, your aid was most welcome. Please forgive my rudeness when we first met." I nodded as response. "You were worried for the forest you care for."

I was exhausted. Those roots grew faster than I thought. My wounds were scratches that could get infected if not treated. Lithuifin greeted me in the camp. "The Friend of the Wood returns. Here is the elixir." He handed me a blue liquid in a vial. Lithuifin held up his hand before I could say anything. "No need for thanks. It is enough to have a refreshingly brief conversation with someone new - Longbough is slow of speech in the nature of his kind, and Erchiel does not have the patience she once had for my mischief, though that is to her credit!" Lithuifin was the first cheerful elf I had met. I bandaged my wounds by the fire, sterilizing them with a poultice wordlessly given to me by Erchiel.

A swirling current appeared in the water. Out of view of the elves, I placed my foot in it. I was swept into it and appeared on the shores of Tyl Ruinen, an island in the mid-western area of Lake Evendim. Fire breathing red salamander's crawled over the island. Orange with red stripes on their backs, they also had razor sharp teeth and claws. The salamanders were always a problem on the island. Made it hard to explore if your legs were burned.

I found the statue of Elendil standing between two salamander nests on the Southwest corner of the island. I had to clear out quite a few salamanders' to even get close. I learned my armor was fire resistant as well. When I was done, the statue gleamed white in the setting sun. The other statue used to stand on the southeasten part of the island. Just it's base was left.

I saw a boat approach on the horizon. I hid in the branches of a pine tree and waited. It was Astiul and he had a few other Rangers with him. In the dingy, the other statue of Elendil rested. I whistled the tweet-tweet sign of an ally of the Rangers. Some drew their bows. Things were worse than I thought. That sign usually was a sign that would allow you to sneak into hiding with fellow Ranger's.

I slowly revealed myself from my hiding place. "Put your bows away." Astiul ordered. "He is a kinsman." The other Ranger's began to unload the statue. "What brings you here, Danagor?" Astiul questioned. "Lady Gwindeth has charged me with restoring the statues of Elendil on Tyl Ruinen." I told him. "I already cleaned the other statue."

Astiul smiled. "I am amazed at this turn of fortune, Danagor. For you to return just when have finished remaking the broken statue of Elendil proves to me that there are forces for good in this world have not abandoned Evendim. You should have the honor of putting back on its pedestal." The statue was made of marble. It was so heavy, I had to half drag it across the sand.

With difficulty, I put it back in its place and dusted the sand off. A breeze of wind off the lake. I accidently stepped into the water and appeared in front of Calenglad. I startled him so badly, he fell out of the boat. "I was doing some tasks for Lady Gwindeth." I explained. "Lady Gwindeth has control of the waters of Lake Evendim, so she can appear anywhere she chooses or send her allies there." Calenglad explained.

I returned to Gwindeth's dwelling. "You have restored both statues of fair Elendil, Danagor? I am pleased with your doings. Perhaps Aragorn son of Arathorn chose well when he sent you to me with his request. Calenglad spoke well of you, and he has always been true. I was always a friend to the kings of old, and I will not betray the trust they place in me or the respect they bore me. There is one final test. If you are able to meet my last request, I will allow you access to the tomb of Elendil and the Silithar. Surely the Lord of the Dúnedain has prepared you for this test. If he has not, it must be that he has learned nothing since last I saw him, and I will not surrender the Silithar to you."

"Listen well, Danagor." Gwindeth continued. "Elendil never returned from the wars to which he marched in the South, but the Silithar came by various keepers to Valandil his heir, who placed it in the deepest chamber of the tomb. I wished often that the body of Elendil might be brought to rest in Annúminas, but it was not to be. When the Dúnedain abandoned the city, Amlaith spoke to me as the kings were wont to do: "Gwindeth," he asked, "Long have you aided the line of kings descended unbroken from noble Elendil. Your counsel is true, and the respect we bear for you unquenchable. I fear that Arnor cannot stand divided. There are too few of us left to hold Annúminas; we will move the people to Fornost, in the east, and I hope we can survive the dangerous days that lie before us. It is said that you have the gift of foresight. I beseech you, Gwindeth, to give me an answer: will Arnor survive the days ahead?"

"I will tell you the rest of the tale if you are able to satisfy my final demand, the demand that Aragorn could not. I ask you to give me that which I value most. If you cannot, the Silithar will remain forever out of your reach and out of the reach of Aragorn son of Arathorn. Give me that which I value most, Danagor, and I will tell you what I beheld for Arnor and the line of kings."

I felt the weight of her question weight me down. The whole of Middle Earth depended on my answer. My king depended on my answer. What did Gwindeth value most? She was the advisor to the Kings of Men. I thought back to the tasks I had done for her. It was Longbough who provided the answer. _"Please forgive my rudeness when we first met."_ The other rangers who knew her spoke of her like a queen.

I knelt at her feet. "Rise, Danagor." Gwindeth bid me. She was smiling softly. "I see that Aragorn made his choice of agents with care. He has indeed learned much since I beheld him deep within the tomb of noble Elendil. He was young then, and did not understand the greatest gift of all, the gift that Elendil and his line gave sparingly, if at all: the gift of respect."

"I told you I would finish the tale of Amlaith and the Silithar, and I will do so. Amlaith asked me if Arnor would survive the coming darkness, and I told him what I saw. "Your kingdom will fall, Amlaith, king and son of kings," I said to him. "I cannot see what misfortune awaits you at Fornost, but my heart tells me that if you bring the Silithar from Annúminas, it will come by unknown paths to rest beneath the deepest ocean."

He received these sad tidings with grace, and after a moment appeared to strengthen his resolve. "My kingdom may be already lost, Gwindeth, but I would ask you one last favour. Raise the waters of the lake over the walls of the city and allow the flood to preserve what treasures remain here. The Silithar will stay where it lies, at the bottom of the tomb of Elendil, and none shall disturb its rest until one of my line has need of it beyond all hope. You shall be its caretaker, fair Gwindeth, if you will accept this duty."

"It was done as Amlaith requested; when the last of his people had left the city, I raised the waters and drowned the city beneath the deluge. So it has remained for hundreds of years. Return now to Calenglad, Danagor and tell him that I will lower the waters of the flood to allow you access to the deepest chambers of the tomb of Elendil. Aragorn will have his Silithar." I exited the cave. Calenglad was waiting for me. "You have returned, Danagor! What is Gwindeth's decision?"

"She has agreed to lower the water's that cover Elendil's Tomb." I told him. Calenglad grinned. "I am filled with amazement that you were able to accomplish such a wonder! I do not know what you will find in the freshly-unflooded portion of the tomb. I fear that the tomb-robbers that prowl Evendim will take advantage of Gwindeth's decision, long have the waters prevented them from gaining access to the lowest levels of Elendil's tomb. Now that this barrier will be gone, the robbers will rush to seize what treasures they may. One such band is led by Idella Crypt-breaker, a notorious robber, and she will not remain idle with the promise of riches unclaimed."

"Bring what Ranger's you can, Calenglad. I might need help." I told him. Calenglad signaled with his clasp. The sunlight flashed brightly off the metal. "I brought some allies with us in case you succeeded." Calenglad explained. We made with great speed to the tomb of Elendil. The winds themselves seemed eager for our success. Boats were dragged up on the shore before the bridge that led to the ruined bridge that led to the doors of Haudh Elendil. Astiul was among the rangers waiting for us. Two other rangers had joined us.

Forchon, who usally watched the main road into Fornost and Naethmunn, who was the most involved, other than Calenglad, with fighting off tomb robbers. These three all had Calenglad's confidence. "At last, we are going into the depths of the tomb of Elendil, were his most important treasures are buried." Astiul stated. "The tomb raiders know it as well." Grumbled Naethmunn.

We entered the tomb. Calenglad guided us to a right handed stairway that led down. The ceiling was held up by arches and column's in the chambers. We passed a line on the waters and I knew that was where the waterline had used to be. The walls ran with moisture and torches burned on the walls. Someone had definitely been here before us. "Where is it? It's not here? I was told it would be here! 'A stone of value beyond your dreams,' she said!" A voice yelled, bouncing off the walls.

We rounded the corner and came face to face with tomb robbers. Most of them were men. Their clothes were ragged and dirt stained. Some of them charged at us howling their battle cries. I leaped over one and stabbed him in the back, knocked one off his feet and finished him off. While this was going on, I was distantly aware of the other rangers fighting. One of them had a bow and was supporting us from afar, taking out as many robbers as he could.

The white stones became stained with blood. I bashed with my shield and slashed with my sword. The cries of the wounded and dying surrounded me. Steel met steel. Again, I began to ride the ebb and flow of battle, my sword becoming a burning brand in front of me. As fast as it had started it was over. The band of robbers numbered at least twenty.

We continued our way down to the main chamber. It was exactly as it was in my dreams. The Silithar was no longer here. The sound of running water drew my attention. Gwindeth appeared from a small puddle of water. "The stone you seek once bathed this room in golden light. "The flood-waters of Nenuial carried the stone into deep caverns. I will show you the way, if you will follow." We followed Gwindeth to a cavern that had breached into the tomb. The caves tunneled further down. "You will find the stone you seek through this passage, but heed my words with care."

"Do not wake Nornagol. It may be slow to waking, but it is a creature of hate and will destroy you if it can. Go now and hope that the memory of great Elendil smiles on your passing." I do not know what happened, but I slipped on the moss and my weight was enough to send us all spiraling downward to the caves below. We had all piled on top of another.

We disentangled ourselves and found that we were in a large cavern. It was lit by a golden light from our goal, the Silithar. We weren't alone. A giant turtle was in the chamber as well. When I say giant, I mean the size of a horse. It turned it's beady eyes towards us. It's shell was moss covered.

It snapped it's jaw in warning. "I have come too far to stopped by a turtle of all things." I grumbled and unsheathed my sword. The turtle attacked. For being the size it was, it surprised me with it's speed. An arrow punctured one of it's eyes. Calanglad threw a knife that bounced off its shell. I played defense, keeping its attention by bashing it in the head with my shield. It was like trying to stop a runaway ox.

The turtle snapped and shuffled, trying to get a bite. This thing was way to big and armored to kill. "I got it!" Astuil said in a voice of triumph. "Let us get out of here before we become turtle food." I grunted. Step by step we backed up towards the caves. The turtle snapped and frothed as we got away. We emerged into the tomb, slimy and wet from the caverns.

We threw ourselves down before the fire at Tinnudir. It had taken the last of our strength to crew the dingy back. The Silithar glowed brightly in my pack. Calenglad broke the silence. "At last, Narsil is to be reforged. All of Middle Earth will have need of its light in these dark days ahead." I nodded and fell asleep on the shore of Tinnudir. I was so tired and weary from that fight giant turtle.

I awoke at nighttime. The stars and moon were out, bathing the ruins of the island hold silver. A bright glow was given off in my pack. The vial that Naruhel had given me was glowing with silvery light. I took out the vial and waded trancelike into the lake, until the waters came up to my knees.

In this dreamlike state, I uncorked the vial and poured its contents into the lake waters. Instantly about arm's reach away the water frothed and foamed. The calm waters of the lake whipped themselves into mighty waves. A man emerged from the waters of the lake. His hair was white as foam and his armor sea green and scale covered, his weapon a trident glowing a deep blue. His face was tanned and weathered. His eyes were sea green. Worldlessly, he strode to meet me. I presented my sword to him and he took it from my hands and sank back into the lake.

I opened my eyes again and found myself, lying on a blanket before the lakeshore. The fire was a heap of ashes. The other rangers were sleeping soundly. Tracks led from my blanket to the beach. My father's sword and vial was gone. _"Did I sleepwalk last night?" _Only the waves and cry of gulls answered. Sea birds flew in a circle over the waters, a difficult but no means impossible reach to swim too. None of them dived beneath the waves. Maybe it was something else.

I took off my armor and swam in my linens to where the birds were. _"Was someone drowning?" _My limbs ached by the time I reached the circle of gulls. Below the waves, I saw something shine with light. Beneath the waves lay my father's blade. Had the tide carried it here? I took a breath and dived. My hands wrapped around the grip and I pulled. The sword slid out of the mud easily, not even stained. My arms were screaming by the time I reached the shore.

My sword gleamed like starlight. A warm glow, mixed with moonlight. That light soon faded away and the sword fit in my hand with a comfortable weight. More a length of arm rather than metal. I dried myself and put on my armor. I rode to Rivendell, the adamant in my pack. I didn't have far when the sons of Elrond stopped me outside Bree.

They had been sent by their father to wait for me near Bree. They would make sure the Silithar would reach Rivendell, while I traveled north to Angmar. It was a long journey. The fields soon gave way to the mountains of Angmar. As soon as I entered the valleys leading deeper into Angmar, light from the sun was turned to a dull black-gray. Ahead, the darkness deepened.

**"The gift of respect is earned, not bought." **


End file.
